Search
  • Neuro Logical

Naming is how I slip into promises - Naomi Waweru

Mornings like these I watch your nakedness

cling onto and away from my body

like a moth alternates from

light to darkness.

I have syllables of your middle name attached to my lips

like how you've always wanted them to be.

I still falter when I call on you because

naming is how I slip into empty promises

and sweet nothings.

I do not know how to care for a body

past grief,

it seems,

to write you into metaphors these days

only turns your full body

into a vessel capable of being torn and destroyed,

knotted together and torn again.

It seems,

your body safely speaks of it's own bleeding

when I am joined to you.

Nonetheless, I am unafraid of what we are becoming;

light, light,

tender, tender,

a mouthful of lessons on how to hold

a body properly past grief.

Your naked body is an imitation of such tense mornings and

I am still drawn only to you.




Bio:

Naomi Waweru (she/her) is inspired by love, vulnerability, the yearning of bodies to be free in their connection and has an eye for tradition and culture. Her writings present an adoration for the body. She portrays it as your first sanctuary. She has works on and forthcoming on Merak magazine, a voice from far away webzine, Ghost Heart Literary Journal, Kalahari Review, Poems for the Start of the World Anthology and The African Writers Review. Reach her on Twitter @ndutapoems and Instagram @_ndutapoems.

77 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Insomnia - Damien Posterino

Daylight fades and illness comes, Black seaweed tide creeps near. Wade exhausted through the muck, The net of fear is cast again. Reality hides from pains tide, Wounds of brave soldiers wake. Drugs an

Amber, Angela and I - Payton Breck

Amber was not her real name, though I often referred to her as Amber. It was her persona. Amber ran the streets of New York City every day looking for work. She told me that when we first met. We met

The Victor - Matthew Freeman

“Hey, Dr Valentine. I want my discharge papers drawn up and I want two weeks of meds and I don’t wanna hear any shit. Get on it!” I’ve heard it said a popular poet said sometimes he feels he’s on an a