Unread Letters In Hands | Symon Maguru

It never gets old, special, unerased
The day when rain drops
Made our first glance, worthy
Boiling fresh blood in my vena cava
As an alarm of belief
So ignorant I never knew;
The letter from my heart will remain unread
As tears soak it in my hands.

From that moment
Doors of the magical emotion
Were open by your smile;
arguably the first
To teach me what the magic is
So ignorant you never knew;
My heart is writing a letter
Soon to be blown by wind away from my hands.

Cracked my world was,
As my eyes watch your feet
On your way out,
What a sad joy! Your cheeks still smiling
Maybe your heart had a letter for me
Soon to be burned with anger, set on fire
To disappear in your hands.

Now, I celebrate a decade
Of our unfulfilled exchange of letters
I finally comprehend,
It was meant to be that way
Until now my heart has never scribbled
A letter of golden ink as it did the with you
Even though my three previous letters were torn by my addressees
But special is your unread letter in my hands.

Poet's note: I wrote this poem from experience and imagining how it feels like to reminisce beauty of how one felt the first time being in love. Upon meditating I came up with an imagery of a letter; past days in Malawi both young and old people used to write letters to their loved ones or when proposing love. In the poem, letter is standing for love or affection and unread letters in hands means unexpressed affection/love.