Poem: My Lover’s Dance

My lover has refused to come
He has gone to dance.
He gave his grace
to the African drum.
My lover refuses to come,
He went to lie
With the nightingale’s song.
The sun has fallen
Still, my lover has not returned.

His soul was captured
by the Ashanti’s call.
He moves like a warrior’s prey
like a cruel wind.
My lover put me in a trance
With his body’s stance.
He glides like the river Nile
To the Pharaoh’s flute
And lures the gods
from the evening sky.

Come down,
And see my lover’s dance.
Proud like the peacock’s walk.
Loud like Nyasaye’s rod
Brave like Isukuti’s charm.
Gentler than a teardrop’s soft.
Mama, my lover refuses to come
He has gone to dance.

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Connie Mutua
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niekamwitika(at)gmail(dot)com

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