NOT A LOVE POEM
Your medulla oblongata expands as I utter poems,
not from beauty, no, but from the unbearable burden of thought.
Your chromosomes are my tomes,
written in the absurd dialect of a God who hides behind silence.
I do not read you for comfort.
I dissect you, word by word, cell by cell,
the way a weary theologian dissects a gospel he no longer believes.
You are scripture scrawled in nucleotides,
each gene a commandment carved by chaos.
I recite them not to praise you,
but to indict the Author.
Rolph David
Fri 25th Jul 2025 09:42
Good morning Keletso,
Your poem presents a fierce and unvarnished examination of the complexity behind understanding someone—or even oneself—beyond surface emotions. I respect how you dive into that tension between searching for meaning and feeling overwhelmed by confusion and silence. The way you blend scientific imagery with theological doubt gives the piece a unique gravity, highlighting how sometimes our closest connections feel more like puzzles or contradictions than simple truths. It challenges the reader to confront the discomfort of not having easy answers, which is both brave and compelling. Your poem leaves a lasting impression by refusing to settle for easy interpretations.
Cheerio,
Rolph