Roses for dinner
She’s been calling for hours
Sent mails I don’t reply to
Deep down I know she misses me
But I can’t do this, my trust is bruised.
It’s six in the evening
All dark and raining
“I’ll wait at the train station”
Another mail pops up.
My heart gets heavy,
I decide to let her in
She promised to make dinner
I feel full, so I just grab some roses
As a light there she stands in the rain
“Have these my lady, don’t worry about dinner.
It’s us for the night, let’s have roses for dinner.”
Windows to the soul.
She smiled and held my hand at the table.
I was used to this, but
This time it felt different,
I could feel her chocking on something she wanted to say.
Slowly losing control of herself,
She chuckled to hold back tears
She wasn’t good at this,
At least she was human enough
I moved closer to keep her warm,
“Why do you think I am crying?”
I looked into her eyes and smiled
“You don’t believe this is happening
It’s written in your eyes.”
As I walk through the valley of death,
She’s been here all the time,
I wonder if she deserve this
Or am I the one undeserving.
The beatings and insults each day
Reporting home late and drunk,
The lies I pasted
And false accusations right in her eyes,
I think I didn’t deserve this.
She takes care of me at the lowest,
Moments when drink buddies are nowhere to be seen.
She gives me a shoulder to lean on
And knows times when I need her the most.
Why then did I share her matrimonial space with someone else?
She deserves better than this ungrateful me.
Am the undeserving that got lucky.
She rolls on her side
She’s warm, her skin still moist with sweat
I can feel her heart beats
I turn her over, she looks at me and chuckles.
These are moments I lived for,
When I can forget the hustles of the day.
Moments when I need to rid pressures and thoughts
Every time I hear that chuckle,
I know I am home and it was midnight.
We tell stories of olden days
And freeze into each other.
Slowly as sleep creeps in
As I struggle to stay awake, and my speech gets unclear,
As assurance of a goodnight sleep
I hear the midnight chuckle one more time.
Waking up to morning Kisses, one
Ready breakfast, and a warm birth too
She knows the exact temperature I like my tea, three.
Straightens my tie, says a prayer for a good day
She knows it’s what I need, she’s home to me.
Reminding me to drink water.
She’s a guardian angel, true she’s an angel
Friends worried where I went to,
Mail, I have a home at home.
She waits by the walk path,
Face glows at my sight.
Throws her arms around me then whispers,
“I’m home for you.”
As she grabs me by the tie, and leads me inside.
Nine out of ten,
Rate, then tell a lie
To keep her closer to you,
She’s hurting hiding in false comfort
Hail Mary, show them likes don’t matter.
He’s been hiding,
Starving in a mansion.
Afraid of what people will say,
People who call him Lord among men,
He went bankrupt, but has to keep up
Hail Mary, show them even the rich also cry.
It’s her third bottle,
She don’t understand how she got here.
She thought it was cool,
And saw the need to fit in.
Now she’s used to it, can’t get off the hook.
Hail Mary, show her the essence of being herself.
Evidence of a long journey,
Stories of patience and tolerance
Ones clad in chains
These feet that rule the world.
Like Kano and the Mara
Mwembe Tayari, where they stepped last
Then off they set to build the West.
Led the search for trade and pasture
For war and marriage
Slowly they made way for generations,
These African feet.
It is here where we played
Hide and seek, sometimes soccer
Every holiday in the midday sun
These grounds were sacred,
Sacred for any child we grew up with.
They showed when the dew dried,
Different colors, impression of rainbows.
Freely floating in warm air
Moving side to side giving the field a heavenly look.
It is here where we learnt,
Counting seasons with appearance of butterflies.
Some showed rainy season approaching,
Some showed drought coming.
It was a play ground that told the future,
It is the butterfly field.
Roses at The Tombstone
I felt misplaced
Wondering in here in the morning
It’s true I miss her
The site of her name here gives me peace
As the tombstone grows old each day
I get calm knowing she rests in piece.
Who brought these here?
The bunch looked familiar
Hadn’t noticed them earlier
It was misty for my poor sight
Such roses had caused war in my house.
Neatly tied, like for the living
Why these why now?
Beside it a note from anonymous
“Memories of you are killing me slowly”
I picked the roses and walked towards the gate,
Trashed them on my way out as I whispered to the air,
“Maybe he loved you more than I could.”
Can he really see this?
Can he even feel this?
She hasn’t slept for days
Everyday at the doorstep waiting for him to be home.
He promised to be here soon,
She made a wish, he was to bring a present.
The bond of father and daughter,
She needed him here, it was her sixth birthday.
She woke up excited
Thought he was finally home.
There stood two messengers,
Bearing a letter and a flag
She was a kid and couldn’t understand
But this was a message of no return.