WHEN MY HEART ACHES

ROSE

When my heart aches

and my head tortures me with memories of you

I savor the pain

Knowing that I dared to love genuinely.

#THEWORDBREWER

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MUTED STRUGGLES

CUP

I AM A STEAMING CUP

AND NO MATTER HOW WARM I FEEL BETWEEN YOUR FINGERS

I BOIL UP FROM A DEEP PLACE OF FROZEN SELF

AND YOU SAVOR THE TASTE OF THE RESULT

OBLIVIOUS OF THE STRUGGLES WITHIN.

I KNOW YOU FANCY THE AROMA IN MY VAPOR

AND THE TORMENT OF FORMS IT IMPRINTS IN YOUR HEAD

FOR YOU WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO MULL OVER WHILE YOU LAY IN BED

STILL TOO BLIND TO REACH OUT TO ME

AND LISTEN TO THESE WORDS OF IMINENT DESPERATION.

I KNOW YOU WILL CAST ME AWAY ONCE THE HEAT DISSIPATES LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO

AND EACH TIME I HOPE YOU DON’T PLACE ME AT THE VERY EDGE OF THAT WOODEN TABLE

AND TURN MY BODY INTO A MYRIAD OF SHARP LITTLE PIECES.

BUT DO NOT FORGET TO COME BACK

YOUALWAYS DO.

#thewordbrewer

A VERSE THAT LINGERS

STORM

We seize the moment and try to freeze it down

But rage engulfs us like an evil gown

That turns our faces a shade darker than the night of a brewing storm.

As for me it becomes stuck in my head like a worm

Boring, snoring, turning into an endless ring.

And I endure the sting

As if it will save me from invisibility

Or these tortures thoughts of creative inability

For I won’t write with blood oozing off my fingers

And perhaps contribute a verse that lingers.

#thewordbrewer

GIVE ME BACK MY BREATH

images

Give me back my breath

Because i want to live again

Untangle my feet from all these knots of death

For i want to walk out of this pain

Bring me back to the top of my castle

I do not like the view through this foggy pane

Feed me words that nourish my diminishing creative muscle

Because i can feel my energy wane

And when i wade through the dark

You will hear my words reverberate through the woods like a wild dog bark.

#thewordbrewer

FRAGMENTS OF A BROKEN HEART

rose

I might pretend

That I have moved on

That I am alright

That there’s still some love left in me

That yours was no true love.

But while I stray deep into an abyss of pretense

My footprints sink deep into the black snow

So it may lead me back to you.

I listen to the sound of my heart crack

In spasms like isolated thunderbolts

Each time I stumble on those love melodies

That injected beauty into our hearts

And the glow of love in your eyes

Still blinds me today.

I don’t know how to fill up this void

I don’t know how to walk without having to hold your hand

I languish in this dream that I can’t wake up from.

You are here today.

You are not here today.

Because time has since stopped.

Destroying our yesterday

And placing tomorrow in uncertainty.

If I wake tomorrow and the clocks chirm back on

I will face the world with renewed vigor

With burning flames of love

But as for now I am curled up

In the fragments of my broken heart.

#thewordbrewer

MIST AND MOUNTAINS

mist

The mist gathers in milky clusters

And engulfs the mountains.

The rocks recede beneath the swirling smoke.

The trees stunned by the gentle breeze

Merge with the white of the mist and become one.

The sky descends like glory is assumed to come

And the clouds behold this like a reflection of their own selves

The onlooker listens to the crack of disappointment within

For there’s no more summit to behold

But a harrowingly beguiling sight of mist and mountains.

#thewordbrewer

DYING DAWN

PIC

Just before the dying of dawn

Tranquil songs of beguiling birds will imbue the air

And the rise of the soulful sun will paint the eastern sky orange.

The beads of dew on grass will forget to roll down the blades

Thus their fractured glitter will leave a sour taste in your mouth

Almost reflecting back the splendour of the mourning morning

While the air, hazy and almost tangible, will massage your skin into passing numbness.

And trees will bow in angst

In respect of the buoyant wind

In an appreciative gesture

For a morning so divine

Yet destined for imminent departure.

#THEWORDBREWER

DOSE OF DEPRESSION

painite

The race is tight

The sacrifice a distant dream

The joy a short lived achievement

The success a crystal of Painite

The comfort zone a painful reality

Throwing the world in dire need for a dose of depression

Just to awaken lying lions

To chase away the lingering slumber

To sharpen blunting brains

To cast a shadow of darkness over the elusive target

And throw the throngs into strive.

So I will toss you into the lion’s den

Make your heart turn into a ball of burnt rice

And watch you find your route

And perhaps reinvent the wheel.

#thewordbrewer

MY HEART SWELLS

ocean

My heart swells in waves like an ocean in rage

And as I wait for the blood to drop I lay bare the white page

Only this way will I be able to open the cage

Walk down the beaten path in hot pursuit of the sage

Who might impart in me words that will let me make the pledge

And cross the road towards the next stage.

 

My heart swells in waves like an ocean in rage

When I envision the love getting better with age

Breaking through all including the gauge

And even when you are still afar, Paige

My heart still swells like the throat of a frog courting love.

#thewordbrewer

 

FRACTURED MOTHERHOOD

images

The soft hum of the funeral song breaks you into a thousand pieces. The wails from Aunt Monica propel you into a trance. It scatters the pieces like wind does dust. And you bow into silent sobs. Mucus flow. Soft shrieks of a wounded mother. Pain.

Through the thin film, you stare at the little coffins. Shimmering wood reflecting back your loss. You think of the people inside them. Peaceful in their eternal slumber. Ugly skins from the scalds do nothing to remind them of your agony. Patches of dark skin. Dark as night devoid of constellation. And then the original tender skin.

Suddenly you are thrown into a fit. You wail. You drop from your plastic chair and kick in the air like a dying horse. You are choking. Your throat is dry and creaking from the bitterness surging in you. The wig flies off your head revealing smuts of hair knitted in small knots. Women rush to carry you away before you lose your dress as well.

The women, all your friends, stoop by you all wearing weary looks on their faces. They can all feel the torment in you. They are worried as much as they are sorry. While you pant like a racing dog under the huge barren Avocado tree, tears roll down your cheeks ceaselessly.

In the darkness of the moment, fragments of the events leading to the current predicament torture your very existence. Hatred for that night shift surge in your heart. A neighbor had promised to keep an ear on them. To call you on the event of any crooked occurrence. And this you had said without holding much thought about it.

As much as you are whipping yourself, you are fully aware that the world will add threefold on it. All will know you as a mother whose heart is more inclined towards the money than the safety of her children. That you had the misfortune to fail them as a mother more than once is no secret. None will look at it from the perspective that you have been before the fateful night. Their fathers will always associate you with monsters and beasts.

The singing goes on, melancholy. Women use the helms of their lesos with Swahili sayings, uchungu wa mwana aujuae ni mzazi, to wipe their wet eyes. As much as they are in agony like any other mother, they want to look put together for you. Men are grim and darker. Children are confused.

Strength fails you. It is beyond you to walk back to the tent and perhaps pay your last respect to the people who are taking with them a portion of your heart forever. Your bones are brittle. Your vision is hazy. And your heart is too heavy to bear.

How do you bury your two boys in one day? You didn’t even give birth to them in one day. Who will you love now that a part of your heart is crumbled? As you lose them, you fear that you might lose yourself as well. The mournful murmurs of the women drift away as if happening in a dream. The heat of the sun fades away. And in one stock you pass out. Never to come to again.

#thewordbrewer