by Joseph Hope
For Val I gift you a country
without a government: without a place (segregation)
for black or white or color riot. A song as soft as the snow.
I gift you rain in the desert. A bow without an arrow,
so you don't hunt. I gift you a heart as big as Asia.
A smile as warm as Summer. A will as strong as Africa.
I gift you meditation as deep as the oceans of Europe.
For Val, I gift you the pain of childbirth. The giggling that comes afterward.
The innocence of a thousand childhoods. The riches of the earth.
I gift your friendship. The (im)perfect family. Cry. Laugh. Cry. Laugh.
I gift you the reasons to go on and on
and never quit to try again and again.
I gift you the rain and the bow; rainbow.
The songs of the ancient. The hope of the future.
I gift you miracle. Goodnews.
For Val, I gift you—you.
Joseph Hope writes from Nigeria, West Africa. He believes he's a metaphor for what can be, what is possible. His works are forthcoming or already published in Reckoning Press, Timber ghost press, Evening Street Press, Zoetic Press, The New Verse News, Praxis Magazine, Ubu, AfroPoetry, Gemini Spice Magazine, Spillwords, SprinNG, Writers Space Africa, anthologies, and more. He's a reader for reckoning press. He was a fellow in the 2021 SprinNG Writing Fellowship. He tweets @ItzJoe9 & IG: _hope_joseph
