(for ‘Meenah)

Nobody can weigh our love that reminds me of Dooshima –

Tiv name for a beautiful lady;

Arewa–a yoruba name for a

beautiful lady.

Nobody can weigh our love that stirs me

from my bed in the midnight to scribble a poem for you

till dawn.

 

‘Meenah, nobody can define this love that leads

me to your heart like a stranger touring a new city with

a map.

 

Nobody can embrace me the way you do with

your body becoming the fire of pleasure that ravages

me, that consumes me like an inferno.

 

Nobody can shower my lips with kisses sweeter than the kisses your

lips etch on my lips.

 

Nobody can weigh our love letters

that remind me of sunny days in a field of flowers,

rainy days in the streets with an umbrella sheltering us,

lonely nights waiting for your magical touches,

for your indelible caresses to calm the rage of my fear.

Nobody can stare at your kohl-painted hand without begging to be taken into your heart where every man is a pilgrim worshipping

your love, pleading for your mercy.

 

Nobody will see the cornrows on your head without drooling,

without carving your name on their tongue,

without queuing just to have a day adoring your heavenly beauty. Nobody can weigh this rosy love,

this sweet love that lingers on my tongue,

this indescribable love that holds me like a magnet,

this holy love that ties me to the pole of your affection,

this tender love that clings to me all day, this perfect

love that intoxicates me till I fall like a drunk,

relishing every moment of life.

 

Nobody can weigh our love that enamours me,

our love that rejuvenates my weary heart,

our love that opens the door of light that blazes when

distance severs the rope of intimacy.

 

‘Meenah, nobody knows how to love you more than I do,

how to sing your praises like a griot at a palace.

Nobody knowsthe secret of your voice that lures our legs to dance

till the break of dawn.

 

Ololufe mi, nobody can love

me the way you do, the way you satiate my hunger

for your indelible love, for your unbroken promises,

for the sound of your laughter that sinks into

my ears, for the warmth of your body that

mingles with my body.

 

Since nobody knows the source of the water that bubbles in the

belly of a coconut,

‘Meenah, nobody can

unravel our love that reminds of everything

that gleams,

everything that smells like

flowers after rain,

everything that looks like treasure.

 

‘Meenah, nobody can know the beginning of our endless love,

the prologue of our love diary, the title of every poem that bears

your ancestral name.

 

‘Meenah, nobody can weigh tomorrow when

you and I will walk down the road to where our love will become

a sea for the world to fetch, a reference note for young lovers,

a monument for those who crave to be remembered, a wall

for those who pray for a fortress during war, a garden for

those who long for a home of bliss.