In a midst of all,
Sorrows, sobs and melancholy,
Weak she was,
A normal African woman as they say,
Dark, ugly, uninteresting,
Her surviving virtues …
In a dark world,
She chose depression,
Bitter pills of embarrassment, disappointment,
Unavoidable hurting words,
That crucified her from inside,
The unchosen way of standing out,
The rest had fallen,
Not to a snare, neither a circumstance,
Fallen to a perspective…
That which belittled her soul,
Took her culture,
And cultivated a new way,
That made ‘them’ distant,
Slaves to a foreign lifestyle,
That became a part of their lives.
On the inside,
Low, depressed, African lad,
Clinging to little hope,
That a day cometh…
Of acceptance, love,
When one would fight her battles,
Stand with her,
That she’s never been on her own.
Sometimes, it is interesting how you would wake up a proud enthusiast. Maybe because things are working perfectly, or you got amazing reasons to be thankful. It is normal, maybe. Moments differ, however. There are times you’d want to jump in ecstasy while sometimes drowning in a river as your best option.
Anyway, that aside, lets talk about me. My human side is not quite interesting. I guess you would choose silence perhaps to excite me. Well, I would really like to talk about it but because of you, my mind would pressure lie, as a slip of the tongue. Rarely do I wake up on the ‘happy side’ neither the contrary. I have no reason but too much blame. It may not be on anyone else, unless you’d want to shift focus and find out.
So, that very week was frustrating. From the start of it, I knew it would end in tears (fakes laugh). My week starts on Sunday but that…. That Sunday, I had a weird feeling. I woke up early. Very early. But laziness. I don’t want to say it. Lateness despite early rising is not a common habit to me, but on that day, things were different. I knew the week was already bad. Later that day, I got frustrated when one of my sandals was cut. I know that’s improper language but correct me when you read this. Anyway, makes sense though.
Away from Sunday, the next day was even worse. I had the same encounter. Poor me. I pity myself though. In fact, that was the third problem on that day. Worse still, at night. With my buffering esteem at the time, some few people made fun of it.
I knew I was not going to sleep sad. Not because someone made me happy. I decided to put my anger on paper.
Its been a while since I laid my brain to work. Pondering over the ability assumed. Taken in doubt, my conscience fails me. Vague thoughts consume part of me and put me down.I’m numb, with clarity lost. Optimism is taken away leaving me to swim in hopelessness of a dream not achieved. No more imaginations, neither are there hopes of known blogger.
After a while of thought, my dream is revived. Raised again to a vision of a creative mind. Its just but a beginning!