Let it be known that I have wanted to wield my pens for a while now.
That there has been a constant countdown in my head of the seconds
I have gone without bleeding my reflective ink.
Let it be known that I am still a shy poet trying to own her voice and words.
That there has been an ongoing inner warfare
Between what I believe and what my readers say of my pieces.
So.
Hello August,
Ten days later and the sun is sitting high up in your blue sky asking who was July's cold and who said it had anything on you.
The dust is singing happily at the feet of travellers. Warmth is finding it's way to some frozen bones again. But oddly, the cold wind has chosen to stay.
As I sit with myself, I quietly ponder... Can I share with you stories of grief-stricken memories or will you ask me to bottle my pain like this society I have been cast away from?
There has a been a million triggers plucking on my pride and I must've failed to wash it down properly as some sort of a dry lump of wheat flour is stuck on my airways... What should I do?
Can we hold hands and watch the sunsets in peace? Can your days be a lil less harsher than July and her freezing attitude? Can they be a latern at my feet guiding me out of this anarchic mind? Have you ever seen another broken soul cry other than me?
Accepting love and help is taking longer than necessary. Experiences seem to have caged me somewhere within my mind. Do you hold the keys to these invisible chains? And do you know why I am so afraid of everything that includes commitment or attachment?
Could I be this detached?
The tides of coins have been stroking the shores of my empty pockets and wallets. This crippling fear hovers over my unstable self as I stragger through the days of my life. Can the rest of your days speak to me in Benjamins only?
Healing is often finding ways of reawakening my quite storm. Do you promise to cushion me a bit? Or would you rather watch me grow a crocodile skin?
Can I be allowed to retrace the footprints of the women that came before me? My favourite girl's? Everything seems to be draining me of strength and I feel like for me to refuel I need to reconnect with my roots.
Lend me your cold breeze as a guide through the upcoming difficult days but I hope I still get to use my feet as an anchor. Or so help me the universe and all her glory.
wambuku w.