Will We Make Itto The Bluest Skies? Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

When I open my eyes and there you are,
I know we are together for it is
Your body that I see right here,
Inthe space in front of me,
And wonder what it is all about,
That we have done to two bodies,
That do things silently,
And move on silent as two stones,
That can rub against each other,
And leave no visible scars,
But deep gashes in the soul.

I look back at our words,
I see lines written in stone,
For we did things that opened us to each other,
Both of us lining up words one by one,
As two people on a journey.
Yet now I see this was no way,
To any place that we can get to,
For our words fly into the air,
And disappear like bees,
That searched for honey and found none,
And then moved on to another hive.


I thought we talked just yesterday,
Yet we struggle to put together,
Those decisions we crafted,
Rubbing against our stony selves,
And thought we were reaching into a deep,
Where we could build the truthand secure it,
My mind opening and yours locking in,
I open my eyes and there you are,
The lock is open and the words are gone.
The promises flew out of our vault,
Where all was fully laid out and ready to happen.

You said things would change,
You said I would no longer look into the distance,
Wondering if you would walk into my view,
When it is time for us to be together,
For you would be always nearby,
Touching my person and locking in,
To the life we have made for each other,
While our hands were looking,
And scratching each other lightly,
In a forever remembered embrace.

Was it just words we spouted,
Or your somersault that kicked us
Out of our handshake of yesterday
From which you now jump up in protest?
Were you walking in a false stride
For now you will not allow,
What we said would hold us,
In our tomorrow world like gum,
Sticking to a shoe and closing up,
The holes that walking far has made?


For now I see and hear the truth,
Of you going back to your antics,
For I am tired of thinking,
That we were made for each other
Ribbed together with a knitting,
For now I see the truth so clear,
That the knitting has holes,
For that womb that carried you,
Surely did not carry me.

Your kicks in that place were not mine,
For I hear the difference today,
Yes I see it and touch it,
Right here in your ever fickle self,
That rejects to fulfill what we make,
And tell each other is a friendship,
Which as shipmates we can sail,
With oars that move back and forth,
And create the needed rhythm,
That can get us to that side,
Of the riverbed where we slept,
And looked at each other like love birds,
That have a long way to fly on windy days,
With the air pushing against us further
Into the furthest of bluest skies.