-


Maybe

I know how sharp the barbs on the roses can be, I know how deceptive the mellow of love songs can be, I sure know how confusing the arrows of cupid can be. I have lived and I have learnt just when to give and just when to take. Life has taught me how to be down in the mud and how to be up in the air. It has taught me how it feels to be broken and to be loved unconditionally, to be in chains and to have wings. Maybe we have to fall to know how hard the ground is, maybe we have to be broken to know how it feels to be healed.
I have lived I have loved, sometimes too much and sometimes warily. I have given my all and they have not, I have gone an extra mile not knowing they didn’t even take the first step. Maybe, maybe I should love just enough. I have learnt not to cry for love just yet. I have learnt not to mourn when she leaves, not to run after her when she takes off but still, that never stops them. Maybe we have to be dead to know how it feels to be alive, maybe we have to crawl to know how it feels to fly.
I fight for the truth while they revel in their lies. I see them every night in my dreams, little do I know I dwell in the dark corners of their nightmares. I think it is love not knowing I am a waiting bay, a resting point in their search for the knight in the shining armour, that temporary bank where feelings are invested in and withdrawn at will. They make me think I am walking down the aisle only to realize I was walking her into the arms of He in the white suits. Maybe, just maybe I should sit and wait for that day, maybe someday is my day.
But then, a fool I’ll be not for long, I’ll not be the one listening to sad songs and relieving heartbreak after heartbreak, I shall not be the mule, to carry heavy loads, to be battered with whips and sticks but still lean to my master’s will. Even that cowardly stray mutt, she always fights back when she is backed into a corner and there is no way out. I shall not bend till I break, matter of fact I shall not bend at all. Let them say my heart is of stone, maybe it indeed has turned into stone. I am tired of being the one rocking the child to sleep then try to find mine among the deep roots of insomnia caused by its snoring. Call me a narcissist, maybe I am a narcissist, but why love you when I can love myself over and over again? Love is true only when you are true to yourself. I refuse to be that bed they rock every night in the throes of passion, maybe I refuse.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
If we must die If we must die, let it not be like cows in the slaughter, walking willingly into the bloodbaths, too meek to resist and too trusting to argue. Let us die like buffaloes in a lion chase or ants in a midday march. Let us die like termites in search of freedom in a hostile world. If we must die, let it not be like birds caught in storm or a deer by a hunter’s spear. Let it not be like foxes caught in traps or flies landing on fire. If we must die, let our death not be told to those with faint hearts and loud wails. Let it not be known by those women who know not to keep their mouth shut. Let it not be told to those frail and on the brink lest they tilt over. If we must die, let the news be hushed and kept silent. Let everyone be told that we refused to be vanquished, that the flame refused to be extinguished. Let them be told that it is not graves but a mound full of seeds and flowers. Lord, if we must die, let us waft out into your presence like sacred incense. Send a ch...
Read more
-
Where did you go? I am a walking carcass hoping for a wind strong enough to carry me away, a rain harsh enough to dissolve me into a lump of soil. If I could erase all these memories and go back to the days before I met you, I would. But how sad that I roll in torture during the night and burn during the day. Tell me, old friend, you who made me feel special and important, where did the wind take you? Should I cry for time that conspired against us or should I let you shoulder the burden? I have been reduced into a mess of tears and regret. I have lost my trust and my confidence, come to me, you who gave me strength and take me with you. Tell me I was dreaming and tuck me back to sleep. Smother me with the pillow so I will not wake from this, for what is life, when she that I adored and loved in equal measure walked out on me? Look at me now as I wade knee deep in mud and slime, look at me as I stretch my hands to take you back but oh how far away you are. Come messiah, before...
Read more
-
I see in the news everyday children in tattered clothes walking the streets of Somalia, Burundi and even South Sudan. They look at cameras with their yellow jaundiced eyes, all a picture of pain, hunger and sorrow. And yet we choose either not to care or ignore their plea. Fat men and fat women sit on their tables heaped with food they don’t even eat with the television to keep them company yet, back in those countries, men lay dead in the fields, women walk around forlorn and forsaken. We see a child running up and down screaming and crying looking for their parents among a pile of bodies. We just sigh and change the station, and that is just about it. I see men with mucus in their noses and shuffling with sticks due to their amputated legs, their eyes etched into the distance, hope a very foreign word for them. We claim that Africa is held together by bonds of brotherhood. Which brotherhood or Africa for that matter are we talking about? I see a continent operating on whims of...
Read more