a whisper

a whisper of a memory of limbs twined , sighs and pleasure on a sunny day. I forgot your name.

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A little bump

Wow, the breathe that has tried to fight it’s way out has finally deflated like a slow hiss of a balloon, no loud bursts, no startled cries from a rather disappointed child.

I made it through , weathered a big storm and the ship stays the course in search of a safe harbour and the familiar feel of feet planted on Terra firma. And this phase I declare for my ancestors and foremothers – the truth of living fully as myself.No hindrances and unseen mental chains tying me to those that abandoned ship, those that stopped believing or joined a different crew.No comparisons to any other voyager who caught a headwind and is full speed ahead, when my sails flagged and the wind died , this ship drifted over silent soulless, dark oceans, and I therefore invoke the ancestors to guide my spirit onward, you have readied and stripped me of recklessness of a foolhardy captain.

Lashed by sprays of anger, caught tiny glimpses of sun never fully dancing in its light, a short ill-timed hope. Yet this child of your blood , invokes those gone before me to carry me once more and usher me in to my foremothers court and carry that spirit and soul in the remaining journey as I carry forth the dreams and vision my name and inheritance given me by you.

For Wanjiku, Wangari, Nyawira, Wambui my gone foremothers.

Hiding and hunger

It feels nice to be in hiding.Hiding that fire makes you consume everything in your path , and burns in on itself to redeem you and Phoenix rise.You slowly dim that flair and flame, mute it and mutate it into grey and make yourself shapeless , something that cannot be bothered.

I did my first read of Roxane Gay’s memoir Hunger and feelings that were all too familiar gushed up , that hiding, the silence, the formlessness I once felt for so long. Hunger for affection, killing desire, inappropriateness , wanting to disappear.

I woke up at 3 am to cry and purge the feelings it made well up and once again reminded me how when you connect to a book that gives you words and touches your soul you get shaken.

I haven’t felt moved to affection for a lover/partner in a whole year and wonder if I miss being desired or the urgency of desiring.I miss secrets whispered, little intimacies ,language and vocabulary only you can interpret.I get used to being at peace that just maybe used up all my chances at love despite feeling hollowed out at goodbye,┬áthat that was all I will ever get – unreciprocated feelings and feeling less than with someone and the feeling of passion unexplored will wither away. I get┬áscared of being submerged and drowning in depth of feeling unreturned , that I will be left or leave and have to bring myself back home over and over.How time moves on ; turning too jaded to meet someone who loves me and will make time for me.

And I weep.

 

celebration

still standing.still breathing.still winning.

To write these three phrases is so liberating. There was a time I could hardly enjoy the sunshine because everything lay in pieces, surviving unemployment and heartbreak and the inevitable doldrums that come with that.I can testify that you go through the storm to GET THROUGH.

I have learnt to embrace boldness , to be fully unashamed and to laugh heartily and
On the cusp of no 39 , it is so good to finally find HOME. Home in my spirit ,home in my body and home in my soul.