Primavera Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

Great father of many loves,
Shall I call you?
Into this hour of my most deepest reflection.
Looking within,
Where the stars of night battle.
Ares rolling them over in his palm.
Where the winds lay with each other,
Caressing each other with lips of silver.
As they grumble and mumble in the curves of Venus’ golden beaches.
Where blades of grass, wet with the dewy kisses of dawn,
Slice the bonds of truth and trust that hold mankind together.
Where an inferno has been ignited in the crimson waves of one woman’s audacity.
Where souls rise, falling upon each other in frustration and instinctive distrust.
Shall I call you?
Into this world of lust and lies,
On the brink of rebellion.
The streets shake with the dissonance of human frustrations,
Reverberating off the walls of word down buildings.
Yet the pain does not touch the fields,
Which bloom with a configuration of wild flowers and electric petals of euphoria.
It does not touch the air,
Which caress with sweet touch of crisply warm spring.
Frozen tears found in a world that embraces with warmth?
Its reality in the most unrealistic way.
It is Primavera.