Be with me, love.

As the fan, firmly hung on the ceiling – beats
to neutralise
the humidity,
I take in the coastal vibes.
I swear I can hear the Indian ocean as it washes ashore the white sandy beaches of
this African shore.
I am not here alone.
I am here with mothers and fathers long gone,
their spirits soothing my heart.
I swear I have been here before.
Of course I’ve been here before.
I was born here.
My umblical cord
was burried here
in this land.
I am not alone.
Folks come and go
but they never leave.
Every touch
lives forever in this heart.
That’s what the airs of Pwani taught me:
that every mark on my heart is here to live forever;
whatever form it came as, it shall live in my heart
as a mark of love.
And I shall remit this love…
so love begets love.
I am not here alone.
Intimate with a soul that reminds me so much of mine.
A soul that recharges me as though I was empty
until I got here,
where the sun beats with no mercy
and the breeze blows without ration.
But like the turtle that swims thousands of miles to kiss the East African mangroves,
I too
shall leave this land
so that I may come back once again
to feel the love that these shores emit.
Let me soak myself in the salty waters of the ocean –
perhaps my sins will wash away and dissolve into
the vastness of Earth’s purifying waters.
Perhaps my heart will fill to the brim with love
so that I may empty my heart again.
I just want to soak in love
all I am made of is
Until every breath I breathe out is laced with love.
Until every drop of sweat that drips off my skin is sweetened
with love.
I want to soak in love until there is nothing left in me
but love.
Show me love,
tell me love.
Show me, love.
Tell me, love.
Be with me,