Before The Word Poem by Naashon Kuteesa

Before the word, before the thought,
A quiet seed within was caught.
It had no name, no shape, no sound,
On barren, unmarked ground.

Then came a look, a glance, a spark,
That split the silence from the dark.
A sudden, unfamiliar heat
Beneath the rhythm of the feet.

It was the comfort, not the fire,
The answering of deep desire
For simple, unadorned things
The peace your steady presence brings.

It is the courage to be bare,
To show the fractures and the care,
To trust your hands will hold the break,
And for your own strange wholeness'sake.

It is the weathering of storms,
The changing of two separate forms
To interlocking roots that grip
The earth, through trembling lip.

It does not live in grand design,
In perfect, sculpted, flawless line,
But in the chipped and common cup
From which we both choose to drink up.

So let the frantic world spin on,
A battle fought, a triumph won.
My love is this: to know, and see,
And find my home, eternally, in thee. 💋 [email protected]