Searching For Love On a Valentine
For love I combed mountains,
hunted hills;
valleys and plains yielded
their cloaked corners.
For love I probed men's hearts,
pried beneath plastic smiles
and painted faces.
I found none.
Up a hillock, on a rugged cross,
hung a marred face stripped
of clothing but a tiny loincloth
that flapped in the wind.
Sun and heat tanned him black.
His head dropped; sweat
dripped, blood crept from a gore.
Who's this?
The wind whispered:
Jesus Christ.
Why?
He brought love to the world.
Celestine S.? Ikwuamaesi
(Feb 14/02/18)
|