TO MY DEAREST

In this reeking lair
Seated on this cold creeking chair
I write
Write to you
With hope that you stop your wander
Write about you
With dear candor
Write for you
To celebrate your honour

In abject squalor
I have been
On empty stomach
I have slept, on clammy concretes I have l lain
My back washed in pain,
I have bent and kissed the lowest ebb
Of living and being alive
Take this scribe, my dearest
As a frank contract
A bold commitment to my utterances
That when you indeed rest in my arm
You will be peaceful through the night
And see the day just how you find right
At no one moment
Will you walk over the shards of glass
That malaised my entire existence
No longer
Will the soles of your feet be mapped with blisters and swells
Forget being famished and malnourished
With me dear, you are and will be forever cherished
Upon your head
I commit myself
All this struggle is for you
That you may know trouble
But not in its crudest element, misery
That you may cry
But not offend your face with a deluge
That you may fear
But no be paralysed with terror
And that you may smile
And break your ribs when laughing
Because I know that with you
My dearest
I have a reason to do more

'The Writing Of The Collosus: A Poem Anthology' by Kiraka D Mugatsia

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