You are not a visitor

 

While you were here,

You swallowed your words and sent signs

With fluttering eyelids and palms feeling my torso.

You drew, painted, molded and heated.

Visitors who traveled with luggage had nothing

Because you left with nothing but my world.

While some left mementoes to burst memory sacks,

You left with a voice that I’d never find.

But how do you cope with my world

in your voice and arms alone?

Does it make you feel the weight of heaven on earth?

Does it intoxicate like wine?

Or did you hear voices from the Mediterranean

While you were 34,000 feet above?

Go no further.

Come back and lay your burden in my soul.

Here, you are not a visitor.

Without your voice and arms I’m lost.

These songs, pottery and pictures bear witness.

Come home.

You’re not a visitor.

© Echezonachukwu Nduka 2014.

(Image source: Laura Knight (2013) A life in portraits).