By Angela Bontle Ditumiso

Your Poems

Your poems have their lungs
I can see them breathe in my phone
All those written letters
Proclaiming they not only form a body
But they feel, they speak, they draw emotions, tug at our hearts demanding our response to which I'm mostly speechless But on occasion I find myself writing how I feel with tears
Every teardrop a sentence on its own
When this happens your poems wipe out my stray tears their soft fingers Then applaud me for my bravery

Your poems
I feel their raspy voices tunneling down my ears sometimes
Especially when you tell my story
Which is all the time
Though sometimes memories roused is not memories I own
I think this body of mine housed generations before me and they all left something they loved Some photographs in tin casings
Others glass beads
I think I found beer bottles in my backyard once

Your poems are windows
To you soul perhaps
I have peeped through them and saw my life reflected
Because of that I can't wait to see more life spilling from your hands My head is an empty world waiting
To be filled with all of them
For Mikateko

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She wrote this beautiful poem for me and I thought I should post it on here! ♥️♥️