Sikiliza

Drops of joy plop in my path   Echoes of laughter close by A sudden splash of excitement Perhaps an inkling of hope Some light at the end of tunnel That will free my soul Allow my lips to lift again.

My father, Baba - RIP Ordinarily I would be up early excited at the prospect of my birthday coming up in a week. I lost my mother 3 weeks before I turned 21, that was 11 years ago; it took me quite a while to be able to go through the month of July without damp tears. I woke up thinking about fathers today. I recently lost mine, it’s been two weeks since he breathed his last and now he rests by mum’s side reunited in blissful heaven…Happy birthday thoughts are shelved away as I contemplate orphan hood. What I miss most about my father, Baba was his unbending honesty.  Our conditions, rules, stipulations, boundaries were always clear and more emphasized as I grew up and against all this the constant thing over the years was his love and concern. I remember days, weeks or months of sulking because of something he said to me and yet I still remember him coming home to check my homework before he slept. I never slept hungry in his care, not ever. No phone call went unreturned; no...

Sometimes one myself why I turn to write…. I write to express my fleeting thoughts, a slice of my mind…I write because it liberates me, it reminds me…I write because it heals me. I write so that I have something to recollect and muse over when I am lost for words. I write hoping that at least one person can understand me – and if that person is just me, that’s ok.