To Whom It May Concern
lover! lover! lover!
you think human heart
is an open page,
a requiem to be read
at leisure?
or you think it a black hole,
impenetrable thick darkness
to peep through?
what is essential to the heart
is invisible to the eye—
a reason that knows no reason—
LOVE
one can touch the depth of heart
by tracing the missing lyrics
by bracing the undying memories
you love with all your heart
although it gets broken often
you write cathartically hoping
it’ll get better somewhere down the road
like this desperately romantic lover
who charts the poetic landscape of lost love
in his "to whom it may concern":
my love,
back in the day when we first met,
I said this:
in my culture
a man is judged
by the size of his farm field
as by the number of his children
by the heads of cattle he owns
by the peace he makes
with gods, people, Nature
and with his personal chi—
ayana
my father had 10 children
(all without Viagra)
with two beautiful wives
I am the first-born
arrogant bastard
who chose to be a bard
than a farmer
and feels younger than the last-
born. hard to break
soft to please
and you said,
your love to me is
like the rain that always soaks
your love to me is
like the light that always shines…
and I saw
goodness in your eyes
eternity in our love
unsuspecting
the fragility of being human
in the rain
I tilled the land
I sowed seeds of our love
in the light
I tended the farm
I reaped with awe
the sheaves of its harvest
I carried home the stocks
thrashed, winnowed,
deposited the grain
I lived and loved
with sure sense of purpose!
of late, you grumbled:
now that the rain is gone
it is drought ever since
you don’t plow
our grain bank is empty
it is a wasteland
our land is laid fallow
when you left
you left without trace
and I said:
take the grace
take the grass
and the luck
with you
but your love
when you left it felt
a direct insult
to my sweet sweats
tilling, tilling the land
digging, digging the well
towing, towing the water
in those lonely nights
darkness crept in
one leg shorter than the other
smiling without a face
touching without a hand
the weather, now, after years,
is good all year long:
the fig tree you knew weak
thin and flaccid
has now grown fully
thick and hard and tall
in the yard
the rain rains and soaks the land
as water wets
the light shines and warms heart
as fire burns
not too cold, not too hot
just as ever!
lover! lover! lover!
can you see with your nose close to the mirror?
Copyright © Assefa Dibaba | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment