like a lost boat,
with no anchor-
floating in the debris of life.
longing for shore-
longing to feel ,
the slight breeze, the hard landing.
and remember who I was.
and to feel blood rushing,
to remember warmth,
and the yearning and longing,
of being alive.
This week I ha willed myself to forget for a moment how I have struggled this year trying to find my way back.To forget that feeling of pooling money together to make the rent , live with my head above the water.I got some money from work I did and decided to allow myself to live without that critical accountant who is my other half who whispers I have to watch the budget and splurged out like Wangari of old.The corporate girl with a six figure salary ,my indulgence – a stash of expensive make up and an equally indulgent little pile of books .I walked into my favorite bookshop in nairobi (Prestige in town), browsed the shelves looking for new gems and taking in the new book smell.
I resist buying books that have critical acclaim that have people oohing and ahhing.I have resisted buying Ghana Must Go since I first saw it on the shelf but this week I couldnt fight its lovely white cover and the photo and kente pattern letters in blue ,fuschia and yellow.
And you find a moment of calm in the eye
Stillness, softness, solace
And you are renewed.
Silenced myself to listen to myself and find my voice again.
WE will shout,
We will not be silent-
WE will scream,
WE will air our shame
WE will loudly whisper these truths you have muffled
WE will scream this rage burnt in our bones !
WE will no longer walk in silence-
WE will write these truths ,
WE will talk back ,
WE will no longer be damsels for your distress-
WE will no longer be ladies all proper for pedestals,
WE will weep like Rachel crying for her children – that soul curling cry to haunt your sleep,
WE will stand like Wangari before the bulldozers .
WE will walk into the light,
WE will celebrate our mother’s and foremothers’ names,
WE will claim back our wings and fly ,
WE will take back our voices
And dance with wild abandon,
You will not silence anymore,
We are the daughters who grew wings.
When I wake up from some dreams, I take time to remember in detail and note it down.
My dreams have foretold things, acted as warnings , and bringer of good tidings.
Lately all my dreams seem to be linked with loss and it terrifies me that they are becoming nightmares.
Set me alight with a passion so raw
That I forget my name, my kin and only remember us
Let me adore you and bathe you in my light
But I cannot set myself alight to keep you burning,
So I remain like Narcissus watching reflections in a pool of turgid water
And write you like my next poem.