The language we speak: proverbs

it is because of the beauty of a woman that is why she holds her breasts when she runs, not because the breasts is going to fall.

the palace curtains are meant to guide light,
guide sun, guide moon
a crescent type.
why then do you pierce your story
in forbidden pages?
and later seek a confessor so your words
are on a soft clouds of lines known for purity.
retribution is a kerb on a path called karma,
how you fall into the sky as a kite
while missiles use it for roads
should have pricked a target, a chi, a deity-God.
for when he composed you out of my song
he reeked off this rhythm you look like.
the scars under your belly
are not just seashore sands
don’t let many tears wash them.

roodapoet