It is not over

I still have to forget how to remember the way my feet would swell each time I journeyed to your heart. It hurt so much to be apart from you. From us. And even if I lost me and you lost you. I still needed to reflect myself on our broken mirror. Because it was the only medium that I could make you see how much you have made me need you.

It will be like the first time I heard you speak to my heart. How it broke when you could not understand the way my mouth moved to give out sounds that told you my heart belonged to you. It will be like the first day you said hello, to my eyes. With those hands that were creative enough to write your name on my heart and take the bigger part. And you stayed. You sprayed your breathe like graffiti across my canvas and when I breathed it in, I became different. So it is not over till I am able to let go of how you make my mind dance with thoughts of you. Or how your voice ignites memories that become real and nostalgia over and over again.

And the pain would not matter anymore….

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with you

We walked till our feet hurt, till sweat ran over us and we were wet. The weather though windy, served no purpose. Still, we walked. Till we reached the place we had been wanting to go to for the longest of times. In that place, I found the letters you once wrote me. And even if their ink had faded, I still could make out what you said. As we walked, I examined how your silhouette danced under the sun and it was beautiful.

You told me that I was going to realize how my heart beats for you. And even if I had doubted, I still thought of how much we would put out into the world for it to see. And the mirrored emotions dazed me because you reflect a lot of me into the world. So as we walk into the forest of infinite passion, hold my hand, I know not much of of it, yet I yearn to lean. With you.

5 Years Of Silence (3)

“Teach me how to forget Lord, Amen”, Mama whispered by the window that night. She never prayed there. All the time, she would kneel down on the rough carpet and ignore the pain it marked on her knees. I guess she needed the wind to carry the prayers directly to God this time. because this time, we needed an able miracle, something to dissolve all the fears from us, even just a bit of them away. I did not know I had to pray. I never knew how. But once, I did try to ask God to take Papa. Yes I once asked him to. When Papa came in and found Mama and I praying and she slapped her in front of me. With no regret or shame, I was raged to see him without any remorse and so I went in and took the beatings for her. I thought only adults had the permission to speak to God. And as I made Mama to think I was sleeping, I saw tears leaving her eyes quickly. What could I have done? I had grown numb to Papa’s beatings. Though the scars told stories each time I looked at them.

“You have to tell the court how you go that scar,” Moagi looked at me. Trying to assure me that it was safe to tell the world what Papa did. But I thought of his people, how they may be in the jury and I go scared. So I said, “I fell.” They knew it was not true. They could see from my shaky hands and lowered voice that they scared me. They scared me and they could see that.

So the night I fought with one of my fathers people was the time I got the scar. I was hiding under some worn out blanket in our tool shed. He took the blanket from me and closed the door. He asked me not to scream but I did try to and no word came from my mouth.  He had an elephant task in his right hand. It was polished and pointy and I immediately thought of ways to leave the shed. “Does your father know you are in here?”, the man asked. I did not respond. My mind was racing, thinking of how to get back to the house.

I thought I could run past him quick enough, but he was too quick on his feet.
I looked at my arms and I wished that God could make me forget how I got this. And in that instance, I remembered Mama’s prayers, I prayed too.

Different Ways of being (Spoken Word)

This is the story about a flower that lost its petals to the wind just because a stranger said it was beautiful.

As if it did not know of its beauty.

And yet the stranger made the flower to think it had not reached the level of beauty yet.

She had been with the mother, her beauty resonated from her.

Until one day, a bee came flying on to her and sucked her out.

Enticed her into thinking she was a flower only when she attracted him.

And him also who had hands that were so rough yet brushed so gently against her.

She lost her colors to winter. He came with promises that she will not feel his coldness.

She still stood beautiful, through winter

through rain, the pain did not undress her beauty.

And even when he whose hands cut her from her mother

made her live without those of hers

She still thought she was loved. By him, by the bee, by her mother.

She forgot to enclose her secrets to the sight of him.

Even when she dried, died and fell off.

She thought she was the same flower she was

until one day she was in a vase

put in water, she saw she was no longer red no more

had lost a few petals, had lost her scents

had lost herself to those who called her beautiful.

As if it was the first time she heard the word.

She got to know the word as she saw the beauty with which

tears from strangers eyes fell onto the ground.

And each time a new flower more beautiful will replace her sight

but never her being.

Love never leaves you

When I read those words again, I felt a certain rush, the same one I felt the time I read them for the first time. Even if it had been a while seeing those words, I still could not wrap my mind around the fact that they had not lost their meaning. That when you said, “I love you”, you meant it.

I went around the house to walk on the floor you had walked in. I swear, the air still had the scents of you. Of your cologne. I saw the pillow you rested on after a hard days work. You were so strong. Even after sleepless nights you still came home, to me. The pillowcase wore your after shave.

I saw our photo up against the wall, you were so tall. But I never became wary of that. You were my tower. You stood over me like a lighthouse. You were my pillar of strength. I never imagined me living without you in my life.

In this life, we find, we love, we lose. And even when you are gone, I realize love never leaves you….ever.