Swimming in the sand pit of the hour glass of life
The stream of sand is getting narrow
Today I want to be a sparrow
I want to fly without being noticed to skies of tomorrow
For some reason today I have so much sorrow
Yet I can’t point what kind of chisel is chipping into my heart of steal
I don’t want to be woman today
I don’t want to love with all my heart
I cry like a child when broken
I don’t want to be friend; let me be; my heart is weary
I don’t want to be woman today
My own body betrays me
Once every month it creates its own stormy skies and I cry for no reason
I don’t want to be anyone’s pillar; let me be; my soul is dry
I don’t want to be woman today
I hate this point right here! I love you yes,
But I don’t want to hold your hand
I don’t want to be anyone’s lover; let me be; my spirit wants to sleep
I don’t want to be woman today
I want to be free of razors!
I want to love all the hairs on my body; on my legs and the two on my chin
I don’t want to be great; not even close; let me be; let me soak in my sweat
I don’t want to be woman to day
I want to understand what I want
Most of all I want to understand me
I don’t want to be Nairobi today; unpredictable; let me be; let me breathe
Today I want to be a sparrow
Maybe I will be an eagle tomorrow
But today, just let me lay low
Let me be!
© Namatsi Lukoye 2011
Wetu brings us together, connecting and unifying us through fabric sculptures, dolls, stories, and poetry, symbolizing power and resilience. Experience art rooted in African femininity, healing, and hope.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The girl the world turned from - Owefu Part 3
The Girl the World Turned From Ayuna (not her real name) is a girl with a golden smile. She shakes my hand and sits next to me smiling she d...
-
You and me have this bond I can never explain Where, you pretend to be right and I ignore And this happens so many a times...
-
I pledge my loyalty to the President and Nation of Kenya My readiness and duty to defend the flag of our Republic My life, strength a...
-
'Some stories are heavy, mama.' Some stories sit on your chest like a stone on the ground. "Who do you even tell? How do you ev...
No comments:
Post a Comment