When the Goddess Stood Watch Over My Ruins
Nyame's Daughter in Repose
Intercession
Opening the pages of her heart, I noticed the jagged edges, the torn pages, and the crinkled sheets that once played havoc with the hearts of men. I can’t always tell, but when I listen hard enough, I can still feel her next to me. When I close my eyes and begin reciting the first few verses of my hopes and wishes, I can see the beginnings of the life we planned and the journey we thought would never end until it did.
When I rise with the morning sun and cast my eyes into tomorrow, the shape of you is everywhere. I merge my soul into the fabric of your softness and the fullness of your mound, and I see every promise ever made to the children of men fulfilled. The scent of you, the heat of our exchange, its power more than a thousand suns could bear, revives every dead thing in me.
Rivers, channeled and bound since the days of Pharaoh, have found open skies and empty valleys in the forgotten parts of my soul. This command to live, thrive, and move through and over the impediments of convention has seared my mind with endless desire. I am at once conflicted and undaunted, strong but weak, tormented yet enjoined to finish this climb, this steep, merciless ascent through the hills of lost, unyielding love.
Solace
Her wisdom has kept us sane. Her vigilance has been a guide and a guardrail. She has stood the watch, while I have laid waste to the integrity of my Okra. I have never known so wonderful a gift as this she has bestowed upon me. To close one’s eyes, drink deeply of eternity’s hope, and lap up the luxury of knowing that while I lull and revel in this deep coma of ignorant bliss, you still stand, naked but unafraid of the darkness approaching.
My brave warrior, my guardian protector, my sword and shield against the bitter cold of lonely nights, I salute you and honor what you have sacrificed to save my life. The blood you have shed has etched into my mind a brightly burning sigil and constant reminder of the weight of your gift, its cost, and its enduring value. No mere mortal could wield so heavy a burden, but you, goddess, handle this chalice, this garden harvest of thorns, with unmatched grace and effortlessness.
So tonight, I laugh at death. I hold contempt for despair. I laugh at the plight of fear, bound a thousandfold. I mock the fates, though I have been warned against such folly. I do not care. Under my feet are the tread marks of depression, defeated and ground into the dust of our love. I will never back down. You have given me this, and I will hold it in the bones of my tomorrow, and I will renew these vows with you as the eons span eternity.
She is no longer afraid. Now, all I have ever desired has been achieved.