-
When I become a hero
If the men come for me today, again, I shall let them toss me around just as they did yesterday, like the wind does to a stray paper. I shall let them drag me down, and across the fields with their horses. I shall let them call me names, and I shall let them, hold vigils for me. I shall be content to watch them, drag my name through the mud. I shall not flinch when their whips hit me on the back, nor will I be shaken when they chastise me with their scorpions, for I know that it is just but for a time. I know that there are many blank pages that I have to fill, and there is so hard a road that I have to walk, but I know that someday, I shall become a hero. I shall play a victim for some time, and like a bitter pill I will let their torture go down my throat, and I shall not weep or lament, because I know that someday when I become a hero, I shall look down at them, and they shall bow in supplication. They will kiss my feet, and they will write my name on their arms and chests. They shall carve my face inside their bones, and on the sides of their faces. For now, it is not a weakness when I watch them speak ill of me. I shall let those with a sharp tongue spear me with words of rancour and hatred. I will let those with their hands slap me till I’m raw, but someday when I become a hero, I shall stand high just so they can see, and their eyes be filled with shame. I will let them see then their hearts will flood with guilt. Oh time, I am a prisoner of time and fate, and someday I shall rebel, and they will set me free. I shall let them see the scars they inflicted on me, and they shall dress in ash and come to repent next to me. Someday when I become a hero, I’ll stand up at the pedestal and watch the long fall down below, and my heart shall shudder, not with the fear of what lay below but the sheer strength it took me to climb up high. I shall marvel at all the pain I took when I was climbing my way to the top, and I shall never come down from there again, perhaps only to collect my memories and scars, and to wear them with pride, for someday when I become  a hero, I shall know that my scars were truly deserved.

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