Sikiliza

I put together castles, wangle bridges, reach to touch the stars I knit dreams, spin vivid webs of patterns, movement and colours My mind bends my universe into how I recognize it Skies and earth are a step apart Adversaries and friends can blur at the stroke of a trance The only true place I can fathom chaste bliss My thoughts, words and acts constantly understood I soar, I drift, I feel perfect The bubble bursts when sleep ends And my perfect world is gone Sobering me into this sad bad world But I have my treasure dream chest I open and enjoy the spoils Each time I yield to mortal exhaustion Perpetually grateful for this wealth of imagining.

There a manner of silences; Some calm Others awkward. Few remain quiet There are those that are heavily pregnant Particular ones bursts at the seams. Is silence a gilted cage Or a warm shelter from the storms? But what are silences other a cloud of halfs? Half truths Half lies…. Which half is bigger? If it remains unspoken Is it a secret? A truth? A lie? A cage?   A shelter? We remain quiet We will never know.

Hot angry flow of boiled molten rage Run down dripping at every unspoken word Exploding into endless tears To shed every hurt, pain or infliction Puffy eyes drained ducts Throbbing head Anger replaced with fatigue No simple answers Just a cleared tissue box

Earlier this year I teamed up with 5 other women to come together and have an art exhibition in Nairobi to celebrate International Women's day. As African artists we chose to illustrate African women through our lenses and worked with the theme, "Curving the Visual." I chose to work with women being life givers and tried to capture the surreal captivating beauty of a woman with child. Here are some of the highlights of that work. All the proceeds were going to women's charities the artist picked out. Enjoy...

I enjoy road trips so much...here are some of the things I came across.... Enjoy this picture story with me....                 " Boda Boda Album "    Create a free slideshow with Picnik!

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...