Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Posts tagged “heart

Heart Kiss


if you gave me permission to kiss your heart,
not just the skin on your chest that protects it—
the pecs i’ve greeted with warm and greedy pecks
past the number if times deemed to be polite;
not just familiar and smooth brown skin,
but that deep and scary thing that lies within—
i’d first have to hide my embarrassing grin.

i’d tiptoe up to your beating red flesh nervously,
take note of your vulnerability
and marvel at the sight before me
and at how before this day, in blood,
i never saw beauty.
i’d check my breath and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants
before softly kissing it with parted lips and folded hands.

i would set up residence in all four of your chambers,
curl up and read the book of your soul,
highlight all the secrets you’re still afraid to tell me;
dog-ear the pages of your insecurities
French-kiss your pain and lick your wounds,
digest them to make them mine.

but they’re already mine.
you have unraveled the helixes of my DNA
and genetically altered and doubled us
into a four-strand cord impossible to break;
victimized my veins
and transformed them from kidnapped to kin;
taught me choreography to a rhythm once new
but now true.

boom-boom
boom-boom
boom-boom:
the pulse of
our hearts.
our kiss.
our love.


I Left It There With the Intention


i left a piece of my heart
in your pants pocket—
left it there with the intention
of it enduring the storms and heat
of washer and dryer cycles;
left it there with the intention
of it getting creased,
covered in the warmth of lint
and cooled by the metal of a misplaced dime.

forgotten too.

i left it there just in case
you start desperately digging one day
and your fingers find it,
pull it out of where it was hidden
and rediscover it
as if it were never there
and chuckle to yourself,
never realizing it was with you
all the while you were begging
for all of me.

this whole time,
you still had a piece.


From the Day We Met (Haikus)


from the day we met,

God has grown closer to me

indefinitely.

 

from the day we met,

past pain doesn’t feel so bad;

smiles have replaced tears.

 

from the day we met,

“more than i ever prayed for”

is how i see life.

 

from the day we met,

i lose myself in laughter

and love feels so good.

 

from the day we met,

each time i look in your eyes,

my heart skips a beat.

 

from the day we met,

my life hasn’t been the same.

i’ll never look back!


Aunt Sarah’s Chirren


Photo by Brandon Allen Photography

what are my chirren’s names?
i done had so many,
seen lives blow through wind like ragweed, mm hmm.
my woman-parts at one time were like
a train station–
men whistlin’, comin’ and leavin’.
i never loved the ones who came,
but the ones who left?
chiiiillle,
they carry pieces of my heart with them in their pockets,
pull me out of their wallets like crisp dollar bills at the liquor sto’
and roll me and smoke me in their funny cigarettes.
baby, i am like ash,
shakin’ free,
black and grayish-white,
once on fire
but lookin closer to death than life.


Just As You Left It


your shoes are just as you left them:
asymmetrical,
grass caught in creases of the soles,
laces untied,
scent of foot sweat–
subtle, not overpowering;
appearance neat.

inanimate objects imitate life
between these walls,

for my heart is just as you left it:
asymmetrical,
with one chamber heavier than the others;
unspoken words caught in creases of my soul,
future plans untied,
scent of body sweat caught in my bed–
subtle, not overpowering;
appearance neat.

intimate objects imitate love
between these walls.


Long Time No Poetry


i resisted you for a while
and now that i’m letting you back in,
you seem to flood and nourish my insides
like much-needed rain.
old tricks no longer put me to sleep–
fingers can get sticky
and room can begin to fill with
aromatic citrus sweet musk;
body can relax,
but mind and heart fills up
with words.


Medicinal Value


as much as i try to ignore it,
i am a writer at heart.
words are my medicine.
on any given day,
i can refuse to swallow the pill,
choose the little one,
or even the monster horse one
that hurts my throat
but makes me feel better.

words, like pills,
leave funny tastes in my mouth
right at the back of my tongue,
an area resistant to my efforts to rinse away
and mask the remaining flavor of bitter.

a quiet girl like me
finds solace in words
because they speak
what she can never say
on pages that give life
and voice.