Wednesday, March 06, 2013

De ja vu

You should have your own story. A unique story, different, separate, distinguishable from mine. I should be able to talk about you without referring to something or someone in the past or nearby. I should be able to refer to you sans the words like, as, ... I want to be able to tell a different story. To have  a unique history about you, independent of others.

A time comes when the small addictions of nostalgia need to be flushed down the drain; when hues, shades, scents and images that would have you reach for the bottle of remembrance and regret become totally fresh and lively. When everything becomes new, because of you, when everything is born again because of you. Dead to the past, dead to previous broken hearts, disappointments and the entire lot of baggage.

When there are no excuses because of what someone else did, or what you did not do. I should have my own story, you should have your own story. Coz 'nothing compares, nothing compares to you. [Sinead O'Connor]

I'm talking about something that does not simply ignore the past or pretend like nothing happened but when it  no longer means a thing, no longer makes your heart skip a beat, no longer brings tears to your eyes, no longer makes you shake your head in regret.

No need to look behind any more.

Tuesday, March 05, 2013

I just want to write

I just want to write. Simply write. Open the laptop, go to Word, and write. Get my notebook out and pen and just write. It's been ages since I wrote. I do not mean writing a simple verse or a short story once in 8 months, I mean write with my heart; pour out my thoughts like a libation. I just want to write.

Back then, I did. I wrote. Every morning, every evening, every night. Like a salah. More because back then "mon joug est dur et mon fardeau ├ętait lourd." My yoke was was hard, my burden was heavy. I needed to lay it down. I did not know how else to apart from write. I wrote because I did not talk much. Not to family, not to friends. Even when I talked to Him, I felt a burning in my heart and I still needed to write.

Is the burden lighter now? No. I am older, it gets heavier by the day but then the older I get, the less time I think I have to write. The more I chase things that I hope will be enough substitute for writing. And yes, these things are the normal things to do. Go out more often, meet new people. Enroll in a class, know how to do business. Join prayer class, learn how to pray. Join discipleship class, grow in the Lord.

Things to do. Writing not one of them.

Writing made me think. This was the one thing that would make me observe things around me. The lady in the park with the baby who would ask for help every evening at around 8. The old mzungu who would sit at the Cafe with the cigarette and the newspaper and a cup of coffee. The look of longing in my mother's eyes. These were untold stories. Not the ones meant for Nambi's show or CNN, but the ones that my pen needed to tell.

Not only would it get me thinking, it would change me. Once I got entangled within the lives of these people I asked questions; the why's, who's, how's and more. Perhaps I needed to have more conversation with my mother about simple things like getting a girlfriend. Maybe I needed to throw stones at the mirror before throwing them at anyone else?

I need to write. Wanting won't do. I need to start and let the river flow. I need to not be scared to write for lack of relevance. I need to write. I want to write. I must write or the waters that stir my soul shall calm down and stagnate the pools created in me. I shall write lest my being is set aflame with fires unhindered.

I wrote today, I hope I will write tomorrow.

Monday, March 04, 2013

The most beautiful.



How many ways  could say that you're beautiful. 

You were like a sunrise last evening;
gentle on the eyes, 
soothing to the heart, 
more radiant by the second.

Eyes like eclairs, 
swimming in a sea of milk; 
smile like a lone diamond 
glowing in velvet night - 

Girl, I wish my heart could settle, 
but you looked celestial last night.

Conversation like a field of fire-flies, 
illuminating ebony plains, 
You set off a light show in my soul -- 
every minute instantly nostalgic, 
every second; a verse of haiku.

I've tried to remember something more beautiful, 
but girl, you were the most beautiful thing last night.