Keep Fighting

Instead of being ashamed of what you’ve been through , be proud of what you’ve overcomed

I still remember the day you nearly fell for the temptation

Dark clouds looming in the sky

threatening to burst into rain which never came

The fleeting image of your face

On a mirror

Your body bundled in the corner of your blue room

Face stained but not with tears

you could never cry for yourself.


The first time you felt doubt

you instantly locked it in your heart

Even I could not recognize it

under the layers of facade

that you had put on.

But I definitely saw it the second time

And the third and the fourth and the umpteenth time

A feeling I can’t Express

When you streched your elastic skin

After their ugly words were uttered

And reinvented a new you.


I was so afraid

That salvation for you was long gone

I didn’t reach out

or speak, even touch

Oh how wrong I was love!

Behind all the sins I saw

Your pain and hurt

The passive show you kept,

You were more than the words

their declaration

More than my confining thoughts.


No,

You were neither confident nor peaceful

You were unhappily you

Imperfect and flawed

Sad and angry

Scared and alone

But even in the face of all these

you never gave in

You remained you.

And no one could define or contain you.


When your hand trembled

Threatening to drive the razor into your veins

In your closed bathroom

You felt such a great fear tugging at the sleeve of your heart,

Chanting your name

And I knew you were never hopeless

No one could kill you,

Not even you.

The Angel Of Death

I am not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.

Woody Allen


I waited for a few seconds

Before creeping into his room

I have never seen anything like it

His baby face carefully contorted

As if he was having the most peaceful of dreams,

I mean how could he not

With the tasteful, pricey decor on his bedroom walls

So white you want to be one with it.


I wanted to touch him

Just a little,Spook his mind

I felt all the negative energy

Dancing in the core of my being

“Do it! Do it! ” It screamed

And from my years of experience , the things I have done

The reputation I have for myself

I knew the voice would win, eventually.


I could not hear his screams

As he writhed in pain

But I felt it, a huge sense of satisfaction in my veins

I felt the white turn into gray and then into black

His eyes widened, for a moment I froze.

It is Risky if he saw and recognized me.

Knew that I’m the Angel of death.

FRAUD

You smell like hidden motives.

You were a Fraud,

Ever since you stepped into the room,

I could smell it in your expensive clothes,

And I could see it on your cleanly shaven head.

Even when you looked my way,

And your eyes seemed to pierce my soul,

I knew there was something about you,

Eerily clean but sinister.

I shivered clearly as you made your way towards me,

How could someone send me over the edge,

And yet still remain captivating at the same time?

People like shiny things,

But not me.

I’ve been taught that every silver lining,

Is a disguise for a storm.

So you do understand why you were bone chilling,

When I realized you weren’t who you seemed to be,

Who I had accepted.

When my chest started constricting,

And my eyes watering,

You had my life in your hands,

You are a Fraud.

Of Life and Hope

Keep hope alive

Keep Hope alive’

I am sitting here on this rocking chair,
I rock my brain back and forth, not fair,
With a plastic cup in one of his hands,
And the other stretched out full of bands,
He beseeches me, “My mum is blind and I have nowhere to go”
I stretch my not paralysed hand towards the door,
“There you will find what you hope for”.

I am sitting here on this rocking chair,
I see her from afar, beautiful hair,
She jumps merrily singing all the way,
Bare footed she dances leaving her slippers at bay,
“Have a biscuit mister” she calls out,
Removes a piece from her almost torn pocket,
It’s more than I can hope for.

Sitting here on this rocking chair,
I feel neither happiness nor despair,
As she throws me a disgusted look,
Scurrying away so fast not looking back,
It isn’t her fault anyway,
I’m used to the looks every day,
Except there’s nothing to hope for.

Sitting on this rocking chair,
My mind is literally bare,
Waiting for someone to hold me,
And remind me how easy it is to let it be,
Restoring the faith in the hollowness of my chest,
Because I Believe all is not lost,
It’s all that I hope for.

Broken Heart

Pick up the pieces and sew them together.

Tell me the story of a broken heart,

that has been so severly crumbled to dust, 

Like tobacco powder in an old woman’s hands, 

Grinding the grains using her rough fingers, 

That the pieces never see the light of day.

 

Show me the vulnerability of a broken heart, 

when the days became dark as night, 

and your soul is frozen over, 

You couldn’t even remember how light looks like, 

and your tears were all but dried up,

 

Tell me the tales of your broken heart, 

When you learnt of the power of love, 

So great and overwhelming, 

It holds your life in its firm hands, 

no escape, no redemption.
 

Tell me the tales of a broken heart, 

when you learnt to get rid of the hurt, 

Slowly but surely, 

and smiled once again at the face of adversity, 

You were safe,  you were okay. 

Stereotypes

      Is it so bad to see people different from us succeed? 

The world is continually becoming claustrophobic every single day.  I feel the walls closing in every time a I’m associated to label. The society mercilessly wants me to behave a certain way that a few barbaric individuals have invented. They want me to play the still good Passenger in their pretty  bus. 

When I was in high school,  stereotypical stuff was a laughing matter.  For example my friend would say that because I’m a kikuyu I love money or because someone else was from the western region of the country they loved food.  So hilarious,  infact it was the basis of all our jokes.  It still is.  But then,  I’m in university and it isn’t laughable anymore.

You realize that the jokes you so crudely laughed at is actually the basis of people’s thinking in the real world. You suddenly become a shell of a person whose community is the only thing that matters.  Don’t get me wrong I love my community and my Identity but that doesn’t mean I necessarily behave in a certain way.

 A few days ago someone posted in my class’s watsapp group- I quote-‘Your name betrays you’. I was lost for words and I’ve thought about it a lot.  It is really interesting (not) to see how little education has changed one’s thinking.  You would think that spending more than 10 years in school people will learn the damage of racism and tribalism. You quickly learn though that this isn’t the case and it is so annoying. 

Whenever you introduce yourself people are like”Winnie who? ” , “Wewe ni m… (What are you…)”. I’m human that’s what.  That’s the label I need to have.  That’s the first thing you should know every time you meet someone. Because we all know we can’t be defined by the choices we never made.

I know there’s a wide range of stereotypical labels from race to gender to tribe to country but my gosh why should someone be opressed because that?

Passenger

 

 

Remind me

Remind me to breathe. For sometimes it escapes the confines of my mind.  Then my lungs fail me, and the air isn’t as sweet as I remember. It squeezes my chest so tightly in its palms, draining my life away. And the pain is unbearable. 

Remind me that this is only temporary and it’ll get well. That it’s just a passing phase and nothing is permanent. Tell me that it shouldn’t matter,  that it’s okay to be sad. That in the morning it might still be raining but it’s what should  make the day so beautiful. 

Remind me that I matter.  That my life holds some kind of value.  Because I forget, I really do. I wallow in self pity and self disgust. I compare myself to others and hate myself for the mistakes I made. For the poor choices,  the procastination and the temptations I was never able to overcome. 

Remind me that you are here.  That if I ever loose touch with this world,  you’ll wake me up.  That when I start slipping away into bliss,  you’ll hold onto me. You’ll shake me back to the painful reality and tell me that’s it’s for a short while. 

Remind me of the beauty of life and the freedom of positive thoughts. When we sang in the meadow,  our voices so rough yet so great. Help me get away from the slavery of pain,  hurt and inferiority. 

Remind me to flourish and to Blossom. Not because I’m supposed to but because I was made to. Tell me that my future is star lit bright. 

Remind me how to breathe again.