A letter to heaven

I suffer from  ailurophia also known as the fear of cats. Yes, I am afraid of cats-really afraid. I know it sounds childish, but the presence of the feline creature, frightens me. I’m also afraid of closed spaces (claustophobic), or so my sister claims-I still insist on arguing to the contrary. I hate watermelons; absolutely can’t stand the taste! Broccoli is also on my ‘yucky’ foods list. I sometimes manage to force a bit of it-the broccoli I mean-down my throat because I know it protects against breast cancer. So for my health’s sake, I endure the revolting taste.   My newly discovered talent is the art to attribute the oddest of adjectives to the taste of a meal. I personify food describing a meal as ‘shocking’ or even ‘orgasmic’. I love my food. I’m still pretty much the same build you left me- tall and slender. Well, I wasn’t quite tall at the age you left me, but I bet you knew that I would someday be. I’m completely confused with what to do with my life and can’t figure out whether to head east or west. I wish I could tell you that I am some accomplished….. or….. (the gaps being filled with some sort of impressive title).  I don’t have the title yet.

So many years of being gone, you’ve missed out on my life. A paragraph or two, or even ten, can’t tell it all. All that’s described above, is just a glimpse into my life. I never knew you, but I miss you for all that you could have been in my life. This letter is just the first, but certainly not the last. I long to tell you all that you have missed, and what is to happen.   I love you mum. I miss you.

Love-a definition of my own

You wake up in the morning and just because he is not by your side, it is immediate worry. You stop to think of where he could be and what he is doing. Sometimes it is known to you and others it is a mystery. You get on with your day having said your prayers for him, the best you can do. At lunch, he crosses your mind. You think of his smile, his laugh, his frown, his annoying look. You think of all the different ways his face can twist. Through the afternoon he isn’t in your mind. You have other things in your life. At night, just before you go to bed, you think of him once again. You concentrate on the memory of his tender touch, his soft lips, and his powerful arms that hold you and make you feel safe. It becomes so real, you can almost feel his presence. Then you open your eyes and there he is. He had always been there, he had never left your side. He was with you all day long but you just didn’t look, you only imagined. 

Sea, I call it Life

I could feel the storm building within me,

The waves crashing the surface of the shore,

Wanting more and more

To destroy,

To damage,

To crash.

With every brush,

It hoped to flush

Every dream,

Every hope,

Every desire.

It had to put out the fire.

Hurricane.

In its eye was an emptiness,

A deep hole that could not be penetrated.

With all its speed

It took no heed.

Destruction

Death

Pain

Suffering

Its only ambition.

Water.

Rushing,

Dangerous so,

Violent now

Merciless

But calm tomorrow.

Giver of life.  Solace. 

When life takes over.

You can smell the sweetness of the dew, the damp smell of coming rain. The gentle yet distinct scent it exudes makes you long to taste the soil of the earth. A crack of a smile forms on your stiff face as you are consumed with the pleasure of this simple feeling.

You walk through the garden and admire the beauty of the unkempt hedge. It’s a wonder to you how something can grow in such ‘chaos’ and still give off such beauty. You bend over to get a better look at how the tiny branches intertwine around each other with leaves growing out in all directions. You observe a tiny stick-like insect trying to work itself through the complex mesh. It looks so determined to get to its destination as it takes no heed of the menacing thorns pocked out between the leaves. Leaving the insect to complete its mission, you walk away from the hedge to the other side of the garden. There you see a majestic tree standing bold in the centre of the mowed lawn. High above everything else, it stretches out reaching for the sky. A rough bark covers the entire course of its thick trunk. It is the master of the grounds.  The height of its presence gives it superiority over the midget tufts of grass and dwarfed hedges. The light breeze that causes the other plants to sway from side to side leaves this tree unshaken. Unmoved. Unperturbed. Nothing but a harsh chainsaw or a fierce storm can bring this tree down. A slightly yet wider smile stretches the skin of your face as you hail to this great creation. An authority in its own right.

You move over to the edge of the garden. There, standing alone in isolation is a young plant. You can tell by the buds at the tip of its shoot that it’s about to bear its first fruit. There in its own little corner, you can sense its excitement, its pride to be about to fulfil its purpose-to bear fruit. Its fresh green leaves glitter in the sun. Its white flower- white petals and purple centre-shines bright as the sun’s light reflects off its smooth surface. It emits a fragrance that overpowers the dew. A smell that is musk but somehow still pleasant.

A bee, buzzing as it flies, comes to a sudden stop and lands on the centre of the flower. You had been watching so closely, so intently that the slightest unexpected sound or movement had the effect of quickening your heart rate. You are amused; happy; at peace. This same garden you had so many times walked through, had today become something with so much to offer. It became your own little utopia: Perfect in its imperfections. The worries you came bearing, the sadness you dragged along with you and the pain that had weighed you down for so long, all disappeared within minutes. You let life happen. You left the past where it belongs- in the past; and you let the future be just that-the future. You let life take over. You lived in the moment. AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL. 

Dear Diary

Today I wake up, nothing's different. Hate speech, war, disease, famine, hunger, death...they are all still there. What does it take to make things different? What does it take to change this world? I did all that's recommended. I took a look at myself, changed for the better. I was the object of change in my family. I became  President of my country. Fought for justice, was a voice for the weak, the minorities, the unheard citizens of my land. For 30 yrs, I didn't sleep. I fought tirelessly hard. I served. I gave. I was the leader I thought my country needed. And still, I failed.

Today as I crossed the street from the kiosk, I watched a feeble child suck on her dead mothers breast as he desperately sucked to get some nourishment from his mother's dried up bosom. I couldn't hold back the tears. That's when it all hit me. It wasn't I that had failed. It was all of us. It was us as humanity who had failed to unite and fight for the greater good. It was us, that sat in our luxurious living rooms flipping through channels on our HD screen, oblivious of the dying world around us. It was and still is, us humanity that is the cause of our grandchildren's present day suffering.

So now I ask dear Diary, what more can I do? What more can I say to get through to humanity? How much longer can I sit here feeling like a failure?

My Canvas

The perfection of my eyebrows as they form a faultless arch right above my eyes,

The beauty of smile that stretches wide,

The tilt of my nose as it dips slightly downwards,

The roundness of my eyes open enough to reveal my dark pupils,

The kink of my hair that allows my rich African locks to remain in shape,

The whiteness of my teeth that shine in the faintest of  light,

The length of my neck that boasts my well-balanced head,

The curve of my thick lips ready to kiss

And the deep shade of my skin to create a breathtaking finish.

Beautifully African,

Chocolate-coated,

Sun-kissed skin . 

A cocktail of emotions

Emotional juice oozing out of my being,

Like sweat it trickles down my skin

Tingles and teases my pores.

A wave in fast motion stings my open sores.

The fire inside heats up my tears

Warm against my cheek reflects my fears.

Deep red blood meandering in my veins

Fails to create a red flash to show the shame.

A knot in my stomach traps the bile

Entangled within, no fluid without.

A build up of rain in times of pain

Floods of feeling

 With so much meaning.