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Sanctitude (for Ayanyemi Precious)


for Ayanyemi Precious

If the mustard seed could hold my faith, what
then is of these sand grains if they do not
fleet as roving clouds at the kick of you?
if the fluster of cold embers cooks the
fire, what then are these raining dusts if they
don't remind you of being a Black woman?
one that owns the mirror of the world in
a secret place. 
If these conger waves from coastal waters
walk their way to the grave, what then is the
trapped wind doing as the time fleets if it does
not tell you that living isn't forever
yet is it forever like... eternal,
for man lives on after passing away.
man lives in your head, in the dust of his
grave. and he lives with his name in an edge
of a lover's heart. she is a lover.

She is the preciousness that glows in the
beauty of her elegance — her black beauty;
isn't it her cosmos identity
that even in its pleasantness has the sourness
of this space endurable? for, when beauty
glows, what reigns ever is in the eye;
of it that sees it and he that praises it.
if beauty is not in the eye, what then
is at the winking hairs? you are not the
beauty before the eye, but it in the eye.
and death cannot take beauty, it keeps it
in the frames of the mind like the key and
its knob. such is your beauty, beloved.

"words from the innocent mind"
Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

Live long and prosper, Precious.


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For Ikeoluwa.

I have sailed in the ocean — on
your body's warm drenched spot axis,
and i have felt the touch of your
freezing burning hands and cold words:
you said some soft words gently in
my ear on a cold night. and my
body is a tree, it rustles
when winds beat. winds like your mutters.

I have a whirling desire
that we are over the 9th edge;
grabbing, rocking, licking, tasting —
and the passion flows 'n' action shows.
your whole body defines a lot
even when i see nothing but
the voluptuous pillows of a
tired bed, calling me to sleep.

Slowly, this pace beats rapidly
like a running fire. and i'm
burning coldly on a meet with
your whitish round thorax muscle.
glorious! your body is a bike
and i'm good at riding roughly.
slide and glide, make a symphony
of our salvation on this cold night.

Akinwale Peace AkindayoPhilip Peace