Mangroves

If a bird loved a fish, where would we live?

‘Under the shade of the mangroves, I promise to love and to hold,’ he vowed

such frivolous sentiments from an old adage were spoken while

walking up the mountain slopes we strode, looking for God, I mention

he looked about clutching at straws for the right words

to alleviate the tension of saying goodbye.



He cried, holding me tight, at the airport

unashamed and hopeless a spectacle he puts on

my legs still swollen and bruised from the accident

inert and unable to walk away from his hold

a Solomonsque decision was taken,

to stay meant a love surely doomed

the tough patina he felt when we first met

was back as I walked away shaken



We met by chance and went head-to head

over our past association left unresolved

an invite he extended for a late night coffee

side by side we lay as the sentinel watched over us

on the shores of our birth place we reminisce

keeping our emotions at bay, looking up at the lighthouse



Maybe going through loss and pain

makes one open up and share

I fumed at his rhetoric of how I left without a care

How dare he be so impetuous?

I open my mouth with a rebuttal

only to have it sealed shut, with a subtle caress



the tendency to see your new found love

through rose-coloured glasses makes

one myopic at best until the truth illuminates;

had I not hit the rocks injuring my legs,

having no one in this cold world to turn to

a need borne out of necessity is my justification

even if his needs were entirely self-gratification



To reconcile what I had lost since the breach

my magical night on the beach:

Don’t let your guard down,

Don’t show your vulnerabilities,

Don’t be naïve,

Don’t believe in love,

if it costs you your mangroves