If The Sun Had Arms Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

Honey nectar sweet and sticky I wade in it.
I wait in it.
Head upturned, feet kicking, the pulsing warmth of the sun gently licking my neck. Softer than a feather, caressing my ebony skin.
I sit in the warmth, letting it whisper a love song to my soul. Enriching the minerals of my skin, highlighting and pouring glitter into the mild brown of my irises. A calm peace coming over me, with great arms wrapped around me like a golden shawl with the sun’s comforting song of warmth knitted into each stitch.
He squeezes me, holding me tight till I pop. I explode, bouncing off the walls in an array of iridescent colors. Flashing fast now, strobing, pulsing. Like a rave, I’m shocked by the sudden calm as his arms reach out to quiet the restless bubble of intoxicating joy.

If the sun had arms, he’d hold me in them. He’d dry the tear balancing on my eyelash. He’d stroke my cheek while he watched me sleep. He’d strum me into a euphoric state where I’d lay till morning. At which time, he departs. He’s still there though, watching, feeling, caring. He still hears my smallest sigh, and my loudest yell of frustration. Knowing this is enough to hold me till night, when he comes back. Stealthier than night crawling across the sky. He imparts a gentle kiss on my cheek. My eyes flutter open then close quickly to shield themselves from his shine. I wince and he dims. My heart his chosen home. My love, the sun.