I miss you!

 Hey dear one, I dreamt of you again

This time we were reminiscing the good times

You were ahead and I was trailing

You spoke of great words and the good life you so deserved

Before a calamity stroke you down and left me forever paralyzed

With wounds that God knows when they'll heal and tears that fell on a cursed ground

and forever dried never to be seen on earth's surface

Your path was shortened by our quest

One that we held so close, strongly into our ribcage like a loved one.

I woke up into my slumber only to find myself on this lonely planet.

Made a visit to your resting place this morning.

The flowers at the graveyard have moved on,

They brightly bloom.

The ground that we laid you has moved on,

It yields a very beautiful orchard around you,

The grass that had withered for so long has moved on,

They're my solace when I speak to you facing up the sky

I don't know how to comprehend moving on

Here I sit, watch and pray counting days to our reunion.

Should I come with a chariot? 

Will you ride on it?

Should I arrange a bouquet from Sally's garden?

I miss you!

 

@Vinceville

By The Seaside

In your quest to succeed,

Carry with you all you need,

Choose your own path and leave that trail,

For we all live in a haste and always at the edge.

As a pigeon fancier, I'll release you to the wind,

Should you return, so be it for I refuse to cling,

Till then I'll wait, by the seaside I'll wait,

In roaring waves and storms I'll wait,

For you are worth the wait.

 

@Vinceville

MOTHER - DAUGHTER MOMENT

As the train departs, I shift leaving my seat 73 coach 10 and jump slightly ahead on a three sitter where two guys give me company.

I love it here, from my window I can spot the hilly vegetation, a rare cool climate, occasionally I see wild animals and the distant voices of the passengers murmurs  but what intrigues me the most is the lady and her daughter. 

They laugh spontaneously especially when I look at them, at their own jokes and I have to admit loving both of them, their physique, the complexion, the accent (somewhat Arabic) that is sometimes mixed with the local dialect. 

Her young daughter feels shy at times and I like that part when her good looking cotton made black mask can't fit in properly and she turns to face the window for she doesn't get enough courage to face my curious eyes. Her mom loves that I smile and play around with her daughter from time to time and she loves that am listening to their stories.

As I write, I can hear their voices and my head finds it more comfortable to tilt on the left to get the unending view where they sit toe to toe facing each other. I see and write and this is what I love to do this cool afternoon. The mother is a Muslim, she's partly shown me her hair and ears. She's just pulled her buibui almost close to her hips, I don't want to imagine what else she's about to show me.

It's now sunny, the reflection of the sun and has just chosen their window and they are glowing. 

Like a painter, I look at them and write, look at them and smile, smiling due to the thrill that I find just by staring.

 

@Vinceville

LAST MOMENT

And then I saw hands not one but two on different occasions to my left shoulder slightly above me. A hand big enough asking to help me get off the ground.

And I saw all the lives have lived passing through my eyes like a fleeting shadow. From where it all begun, all the good times and the bad ones. I saw people weep, I saw my mum achingly mourn, how tears have bathed her face. As if in a revelation that's yet to come and still I see it happening night in front of my eyes. 

I saw everything I had built crumble into pieces, every bond I once thought to be unbreakable, I saw them break piece by piece. All the beliefs have taken every word of it disintegrate. 

And I saw my casket lowered to the grave and my eyes opened big enough to see artists finding their way among the crowd to paint. As everyone bids me goodbye, others throw flowers and still others are restrained from entering the grave with me, the artists draws and draws. The painting was titled "The last moment."

When my eyes finally closed, I rose to my immortality, not because have lived without blemish but because of God's wondrous Mercies.

And a light stroke my path, so bright and so fierce. 

 

 @Vinceville

BON VOYAGE

Just as in birth, she's always a stride a head of me, except that this time we are strolling in the city of the busy Accra road and then towards River road. This trek could be our last as she leaves for Canada in a fortnight. That very moment reminded me of the early days in my campus years when I was still new in the streets of Nairobi and I had her to take me around the city. From the cheapest food joints in town to the bus station and to my destination back home. She smiled a bit and then reminds to be careful with my phone lest in be snatched 
Before I forged my own path I became a student of my elder siz backfrom the high school days nobody believed in me more than her. At one time in my lowest moments she suggested a book "The Purpose Driven" by Rick Warren. As she never got tired of reminding me that we're all born for a purpose. The book which has been so beneficial to date.
In my high school final year, determined to help me succeed, she hired a tutor from within the school who would couch me from time to time after the regular classes and this was the beginning of my turning point as far as academics was concerned. I begun to feel the urge to do more and read by myself, read more literature which has been of tremendous benefit to me. 

As I reported to campus, she taught me how to cope up with the busy Nairobi life and I adapted so quickly despite being a first timer. 
There is one thing I noted, she was ever in a hurry be it going for shopping, church or leaving for work and most importantly she had an easy and better ways of doing things. 
She cooks well though I don't remember her taking any chef course but she is thorough in the kitchen. 
As you soldier on dear Siz, I don't know if you remember but this was always your dream and by that I have something to believe in. So dreams do come true after all. Cheers

 

 @Vinceville

A taste of Freedom

If this is what great men and women have termed as freedom then let me be like a willow and swing over and over. Though the past mistakes have made me weary and have been disabled for standing stronger for longer.
If this is the definition of freedom then let me just sit and watch worries pass. Let them have a place in my heart no more.

Letting go and giving away has been the hardest thing for me to do. How I wish there was a teacher for the same, It would have been a lot easier to learn, I presume. However, with friends beside me and loved ones to cherish, am certain letting go will be a lot easier than I ever imagined. 
Have read all sorts of inspiration and all have touched me in different ways. Have walked troubled paths and often encountered life threatening situations. Not a day have these made a notable difference in my life.

There has been a roaring storm rocking my boat no end. In all these, peace and tranquility has been my desire. Even as the boat docks I pray that however rough the landing will be I will finally find a taste of freedom. So help me God        

 

                                                                                                                                                                             @Vinceville                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

I’ll Win At Dawn

Through the spring we rose.

In the summer

we stumbled.

In the fall

we fell.

In the winter

we dwindled.

2021 here we wait

with a gloomy gaze

and with hope I guess

As Luciano Pavarotti

poetically puts it

All'alba vincerò

 

 

 @Vinceville