By Splendor Victor
In this poem, I am not withering anymore.
I wake to the petrichor of soft light, and I recall
last night it rained—angel wings drizzling
like daffodils. And see now, a garden.
And butterflies dizzy with joy. God breezes by at
evening. He sneezes and I catch a blessing.
It is a beloved thing, that this heart, though broken,
still gasps. Wings dipped
in orange song
I do not fall short of grace.
I am not debris caught in the
tongue of a tsunami. I drink you up like fire
and in reckless abandon belch a heartful of I love yous
This time you don’t crumple to ash. You do not fold
and call it origami. I am brave. I am not scared
to say I will die. For love. That I’ll bleed
My dreams onto a paint brush and splatter, everywhere,
moon-red potential. So you will touch me
and miracle music. Kiss me and inhale stardust—
I was born to discover the paradise
shrubbed in your tongue. I crave heaven
no more, only the things you do—only the places
you take me in your mouth. Fingers doodling
frantic clouds. And now see,
daffodils.
BIO:
Splendor Victor is a writer that relishes the privilege to make beauty out of breathing. A graduate of Health education from University of Uyo, Nigeria. He is the joint-winner of Shuzia’s “The Testimony” contest and winner of Skybird Poetry 2022 slam. Find him on IG/FB/Twitter @Splendor_Victor