Are we our feelings?
That butter-milk fit of emotion
Frothing and beautifully rising…
Culminating in a sense of euphoria!
Or the black pepper anger,
Poured in maximum quantities
Dulling our senses.
Are we our bones?
The structure that holds us together,
Helps us stand and not crumble;
The skeleton of flesh,
Curved out with ingenuity,
From the day of inception.
Are we our senses?
The five that we know:
Sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing –
On which we rely for perception and direction.
Are we our blood?
The oxygen-filled red that flows in our veins,
Giving our hearts substance for beating,
Regulating our breath.
Are we our possessions?
The things that give a sense of security:
Cars, houses, money –
The pretty, the flashy and dashing items.
Intricate beings,
Floating in shallow waters:
Not swimming in the deep,
Not standing with mountains.
If flesh gives birth to flesh,
Shouldn’t spirit give birth to spirit?
We are not our skin:
Neither it’s tone not texture.
We are not out lips:
Not its words, nor movement.
Our very substance is more than we think we know.
Our truest nature is beyond this surface.
We are, we are, we are.
This piece was first published in Badilisha Poetry Exchange, an online magazine on https://badilishapoetry.com/keziah-elaine-ayikoru/ . I recite an audio version of the poem documented too by the magazine. Follow the link.
Feature photo from Pexels.
Keziah Elaine Ayikoru 