Mattā

I used to speak hymns with you. Speak in the flourish of love and praises. Hallelujah had a different meaning between us. You were an oracle, I was a prophet. You were a blessing, I was a commandment. You were parchment and I was warfare. You were a burning bush, I was a horseman. I used to speak with you in psalms and draw mazes on your back and on your palms I would lay flowers from the field we toiled, the sunflowers and the dandelions. You used to braid my hair and play with my beard as I slept in between the cataclysm of your thighs, in their clutches nestled close to the beating drums of your womb and our daughters ferocity. I found not comfort but motivation in you. I used to speak to you in prayers and blessings, we spoke Enochian because my grandmother taught you the language of angels whenever we made arepas. Your hands, precise like acupuncture and as soft as the firmament, when you touched my chest and looked into my eyes as we laid on our backs, I knew you felt like life was a dream. Your heritage was evident in way you would form the world around you. You were divinity, you are divinity. God spoke you into existence before he made Adam, made you from the Holy Spirit and the Word. He made me from Death and Samson. Gave me the strength of the man with long locs and he gave you the beauty of the Holy Spirit, made your voice music, you were in charge of the ministry with Lucifer. But you were the light bearer, you were the favorite. I was born from necessity. You were born from optimization. And we found each other. My mother taught you how to laugh human so you wont crack the atmosphere. I taught you love and patience, I never wanted to restrain your gifts. I loved you for you, even if that meant you could shatter my mind. But I was built from strength and resiliency, I was given that in my bones. In my soul. We used to speak in meditations. I would dress your body in cosmological bodies, in rose petals and chocolate. I would massage your chakras and together we would find peace. We used to do a lot. And I’m writing this hoping to meet you again somewhere, sometime. Thinking ’bout you. Thinking ’bout you.

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