Categories
love

Counting

…Some say stop counting the dead, for dread needs a father.
So as I toss and turn, afraid the virus gets anymore fodder, …

They were not perfect squares, you know, those hard plastic
Sticks of myriad colours that between my teeth like grit
Sent weird signals of unevenness to my infant brain. 
If you take one green, then blue, red, then green again, 
Addition turns into 4 unicorns you can right with an equal sign. 

They aren't perfectly sinusoidal, those hard to bear curves
On my screen, with lab coat, glasses, and eagerness to serve
Me the death toll...like I should pay for a Wuhan virus. 
I love when up it goes, peaks, and down comes the sinus
Like sunset announcing a new dawn or some equal sign. 

Some say stop counting the dead, for dread needs a father. 
So as I toss and turn, afraid the virus gets anymore fodder, 
I count my blessings, like the song taught me and my 
Siblings to do when you'd rather shiver, melt and die. 
Naming the inanimate heals they said, you'll be fine. 

So I'm counting oxygen molecules for free floating around, 
I'm counting a bed shared, the hugs and smiles, sound
From little children goofing around, arguing about nothing. 
I'm counting parents, siblings, forgetting squabbles frothing, 
For life's a dainty petal dancing on sun-bathed silver lines

Of air, scintillating in a million diamonds of green leaves
Whistling a new tune of spring, dancing with the puffs above. 
The birds flap their garments of rainbow gliding on sheaves 
Out of the sky to brighten a smile I bear like finding love
In powder and smoke. Darkness is where these blessings don't shine. 

(c) nyonglema

By nyonglema

I love to write to inspire, to salvage and to heal. I believe there's power in word and language that can cure all the ills which take away human love an life. Keep reading, you'll find yourself.

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