Read: Dear Emeli | A Reply to “Sweet Architect” By Emeli Sande


Dear Emeli,
Before your architect comes to build
Let me be here to hem,
To sew you something to add to your dress
An accessory maybe, to hold together
your heart’s fences and pick her fallen blocks.

The air won’t be the only means to travel
Sometimes we could maybe walk
Our solutions are not often found in the gavel
Sometimes we should maybe talk
My presence won’t take away the loneliness you feel
What cures faster than medicine is your decision to heal.
Living is complicated, loving is not.
Giving is complicated, receiving is not.
Who needs a boat when we could walk on water?

Dear Emeli,
I pray your architect comes.
Two healthy hands will gather more than one.
I hope he finds your address
I hope he becomes to you more than a son.

Oh sweet Emeli,
My ground is soft with your tears
they find me and tell me your fears.
I love to build homes on rocks
you said you loved castles by the beach.
I offered you my balcony
you refused it for a foreign lobby.
I took you through the elevator of my feelings
you mishandled the buttons and I’m not healing.
You said I was only an Architect
and sweetness wouldn’t taste me heart,
you called my hands lame
and rejected the strings they’d play for fame.

I am in the world
till your message came in a gourd
as I drank to drunkenness
wondering if leaving was a good mess.

Oh sweet Emeli,
My heart is no rock
And yes! This pain also hurts
I can’t build you up with these feeble hands,
get used to lonely for she has not left my room either.
Your address has failed my mind
Pain is my home as I’m in this mess.
You chased me away to breathe underwater
and while this burping escapes with bubbles of you.
Just let me go as a memory you once knew.

Arc. Rudolph


Dear Emeli,
These pains you feel,
Not yours alone to deal.
Castles architects promise, tales of old,
Anthill you get, to mould in cold.
An alluring imagery of perfection he paints to admire,
Only to burn with the spiteful fire of satire.

Dear Emeli,
Your address you’d find in scented pages,
Inked with love, pain and hurt,deep in stages,
Tears dry out, it ages-
An ocean of knowledge.
Words that caress your soul, you get the message.
A catalogue of beauties,
Coolness to your eyes, balm to your heart, convey cuties.

Loneliness will flee,
Your bones you’d feel,
Your soul you’ll free,
In castles you’d live,
A library, all these to give.

©Hijab Gurl

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