Category: Non classé

He looked at his children, wondering how in the world he would manage.

The depth of the loss and grief struck home.

She left too soon.

His life was full up till now, thanks to her.

She was his wife, lover, friend,  companion, a mother to his children and much more.

She smoothed all the daily ruffles.

She pulled together the family fabric.

She had borne his failings.

Where was he to turn to now?He wondered.

Small hands tugged at him, pulling him from his reverie.

His daughter looked up at him.She held his gaze with her big soulful eyes.

Her little fingers clutched his hand in a gesture to comfort him.

It was his undoing.

He broke down and sobbed.

He pulled himself together after much struggle.

Through, his tear veiled eyes he noticed his three other children. They were looking at him with eyes full of understanding.

“It is going to be alright, dad. We will teach you how to take care of us,” said his elder son.

“We will lead you on this journey of discovering life, through her eyes and our eyes.  We will grow together.” added his son.

He breathed in and shook himself out of the stupor that enveloped him.

“I will stand tall again; I will survive, I will live again. Yes, I will get over this loss, even though it seems inconceivable to me now. I will because life goes on. For their sakes, I will be strong. ” He thought to himself.

 

On the surface cool, calm, composed.

Slow, unsure, unaware, ignorant appearance.

Internal movement, activity, commotion.

Build, create, finish, expand.

Let true nature unfold.

 

Daddy, why did you leave early?

Why did you have to go, depart, rest in peace, die?

Why papa?

Did you ever think of me?

Eh papa, did you?

Did you ever think of the pain, regrets, remorse, confusion, fear you would leave behind?

Did you papa?

A lot of things I would have said, done differently.

Numerous bitter words, needless fights, I would have avoided.

Had I known, oh papa!

Had I known our time was short.

I was foolish, careless; I wasted it.

Squandered the limited grains of sand, left in our hourglass.

I realized it too late when only one grain of sand remained.

No matter how much love, remorse, affection.

I tried to squeeze into the moment.

It still felt altogether flimsy.

Measured by the ocean of unsaid words, unexpressed love, standing behind me.

Oh papa, oh my daddy, I am now a mum, a mother!

Yes me, your little girl, I am now a parent too.

It hurts, oh how it hurts papa, for you will never see how they

resemble you.

Papa, are you proud of me?

You would have been elated, glad to meet them.

Wouldn’t you papa?

 

A heart burdened bursting and overflowing.

Full of words, faces, expressions, smells, memories, places.

Weighed with, sorrow, yearning for a loved one long gone.

Lightened with the joy of remembering a cherished one.

The face, once fading away, now recollected,

Memories have waned, details now vague.

Barren thoughts, without light, life or song.

Now like a blossoming flower emerges.

The dust blows off.

The light settles on the yellowed, musty pages of remembrance.

 

In a flash, I acted, I did it!

No taking back, though yearning amends to make.

Longing with the whole heart and might to rectify.

Break, demoralize, diminish, shame.

This is the result, not the original intent.

The consequence of thoughtless, rash gesture.

Spilled milk, one cannot gather.

Why lament and cry?

The deed I have done, make amends now I must.

Which road to take, to repair?

Why regret without anything doing?

For not all done, is of reproach.

Only a particular thoughtless deed.

Owing not to the essence of the action, rather to the motive behind what one did.

‘Twas a hand raised in angry frustration.

Landing fast and hard, on child’s  bewildered face.

The child in mischief found, deserved not,

Weighty punishment, which on him, befell.

 

 They say it, without a word uttering.

A glance, a tone of voice, what went unsaid.

Emerging spaces within spaces.

These non-verbal conversations, pregnant with significance.

These silent speeches, bloated, ripened, like a boil about to burst.

Exploding, projecting the infected pus.

Leaving a gaping hole where it once was.

Excruciating pain in the moment of truth, where deceit, hypocrisy unmasked.

Oh, what a blessed relief, from the pungent release of make-believe.

 

 

 

She sat dejected, looking at the remains of what was once her home.

“Gone, everything, I have lost everything,” she said.

“I am all in this household, the mum, the dad, the sole breadwinner. The family depends on me” she continued.

Her eyes seemed glazed and numb from shock.

“They burnt it all down.The house, the belongings. The money which I use as capital for my small business. Even the granary with maize that was to see us through the dry spell” she said.

Here she paused a bit, and her voice almost broke.

She pulled herself together and continued….

“The papers, my children’s high school certificates, all burnt, including our identity cards.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She hoped that through a stroke of luck, everything would end up being an imaginary ordeal. Her most frightening, horrifying, distressing nightmare.

The acrid and pungent smell of smoke rose from the dying embers of the fire. A fire that consumed and shattered her world as she knew it.

The smoke hit her nostrils and aggressed her eyes. She drew herself back into the harsh existence she wanted to escape.

It was no nightmare; It was now her new reality.

She looked at me and smiled, a broken, empty, soulless smile.

Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes drifted into the horizon.

She stared hard. Waiting, searching for a glimmer of hope. Solace that came from somewhere, anywhere.

She needed it, to keep her afloat in the sinking sand of mayhem and broken reality.