She is tall.
Tall and slender.
Slender and dark.
Dark and beautiful.
She is comely and graceful.
Like a giraffe gracing the glades of Mara.

My sister is dark and smooth.
Smooth and flawless.
Flawless like the skin of choice apple.
She’s sucked the warmth of the sun.
Young, mature, and old rays.
She glitters back with radiance.

Her eyes are like a pair of new moons.
Beaming gently in the night sky.
Her teeth are like white pearls.
Soaked in fresh milk.
Milk from a Dinka cow.
Her lips are full and rich.
Rich like honey with sesame.

When they found her, they gave her balm.
To heal her bruised feet.
Bruised by the terror of war.
They adorned her neck with pearls.
Golden and orange.
She washed her lips with honey.

On the runway, she stood out.
Like a black Diamond rare and delightful.
Her long limbs touched the carpet.
Her apparel hugged her skin.
She swayed like a papyrus along the White Nile.
The click and flash washed her.
Tabloids claimed her.

Sing her praise in Jonglei.
Forget her not in Wau.
Bor saw her and was proud.
She is the pride of Juba.
The daughter of the Nile.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Hashtag Melvin from Pexels