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Your name,
two slow
syllables
of soft sound,
allowing me
to push my tongue against my top teeth,
tickle the roof of my mouth
and quickly flick
my tongue with certainty.
In your absence,
to keep you within me,
in waking
and in sleep,
countless times,
I say your name.
One
by one.
I placed white roses in a vase yesterday.
A rose split in two.
One,
But apart.
Wild and free its anthers were,
how gorgeous it looked,
its petals no longer hide its core.
When you were here,
As I waited for you to return
from the other room,
I wondered whether you really existed.
In that silence, I said a prayer for you,
like this,
Dear God, thank you for him;
For his grace and gaze,
Oh how I revel
in his light
and open myself softly and slowly,
Like this:
two slow
syllables
of soft sound,
allowing me
to push my tongue against my top teeth,
tickle the roof of my mouth
and quickly flick
my tongue with certainty.
In your absence,
to keep you within me,
in waking
and in sleep,
countless times,
I say your name.
One
by one.
I placed white roses in a vase yesterday.
A rose split in two.
One,
But apart.
Wild and free its anthers were,
how gorgeous it looked,
its petals no longer hide its core.
When you were here,
As I waited for you to return
from the other room,
I wondered whether you really existed.
In that silence, I said a prayer for you,
like this,
Dear God, thank you for him;
For his grace and gaze,
Oh how I revel
in his light
and open myself softly and slowly,
Like this:
Philippa Ndisi-Herrmann
Philippa Ndisi-Herrmann comes from many worlds. Born in 1985, in Bonn, Germany, Philippa is a writer, photographer and filmmaker. She lives in Nairobi, Kenya where she writes, cooks, paints, shoots, makes jokes, laughs with kindred spirits, reads Rumi and falls in love.
Website: philippandisiherrmann.tumblr.com/Login to post comments
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Issue 14 VALUE |