Tremors

I cry, I cry and let myself cry
because those tears are words
I didn’t get to say.

Father,
perhaps my patience like the ocean
has tried to simmer, to stir clear any poisonous
offers but cannot repel all thrown at it
hence my eyes, darker than dirt
are compelled to shed more tears
and my heart’s soothing song
cannot reach my ears.
I spend more nights looking up
asking for more like
how I’ll not get angry at my son
asking questions I cannot answer
raffle his hair gently instead
perhaps like that, like knowing the sun
cannot become a home,
when I beg insistently while I can still hold on
blink an eye at me so I can make a wish.
I haven’t slept in days…

My Dream Persists

I dream of you,
the man whose touch
I mimic whenever mine runs
to hide my eyes,
the man whose shadow left
me a shade lighter
than the sun ever dared to dream,
how did we ever meet?

I hold myself
to the height I think you might easily spot
and have broken a few steps
trying to hold that height
and silencing the murmurs that
drown my thoughts in muddy waters
I dream of you,

My stare in a mirror
trace where you’d stand and find
a wall brought closer by a mirror
as though even my house is taking pity
and when I extend my hand,
I touch nothing, like
I’ve become what was never there

There you were…

I dream of you,
the man I’ve carved from my longing
that I realized, I am faint with my steps
and the hand that offered me strength
out of kindness embodied the warmth
I’ve only received from my bed,
how could I not hold on tighter?

In Depth…

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654703427/

This thing called love
knows many different languages,
I’ve learned only three
and cannot forget either;
they don’t understand one another
but how to confuse me
with not being related to one another…

I said hello, three times
what did I get?

Subdued

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654680874#imgViewer

what has taken form aside my need is longing
how they convey and drag me into their midst,
I can never lie about who I thought I’d be.

Yesterday for instance,
yesterday I schedule my thoughts
far at the mountain top
to see beyond father’s head
without help of a stool
and our cracked floors helping hand
but my longing won, when father came home
only after I went to sleep.

Winter’s Introduction.

I found beauty my greatest weakness
a haze one day leading to Easter
when the sun was overcome,
shut really by a calm rain.
It would peek but never get a chance
and as much as I hate the cold,
living throughout a day that feels
a shadow of my kind of day
kept my weakness a length away
from my grasp. Sunrise, sunset
or my bare feet on our lawn
away from my favourite scene,
a pint of sadness in a cold day
and many others to come. There, winter’s near.

If It’s Shadow Isn’t Clear


the road I was on 
was not even a road, 

looking down I saw I was
walking on clouds far above the ground,

help, help!
catch me, someone help! 

I’m going to fall, 
my life’s story of going unheard,

silence, if not simmering of silence 
said to me, why else did I think I was forever alone,

and my thoughts took pity on me?
Anybody, I’m going to fall!

There, below it looked a cluster
I saw no one

perhaps they’d gone to the moon or 
hiding from the sun, 

I saw a sketch similar to what father hid 
that time I walked into his study unannounced, 

he chased me away and 
I’ve been away since, 

I’m going to die! 
Hello... 

Till I remembered I’d only just realized 
It wasn’t a road I was on, 

but had been on since I woke
from childhood amnesia. 

Help, help 
Whomever!

I’ve defined my loneliness. 

Caught By A Shadow Of Mine

I belong to the state,
not known by myself,
by the one starring out a window
on a rocking chair,
to the bean or spark started in mother’s womb
long when I could tell is with many faces
I’ve come across and forgotten,
will not allow me to draw my dreams
in my diary.

Dear diary,

death brought to my door faces
with their masks beautifully put in place
the masks, perhaps time better left unsaid

“she could’ve lived her life well.”

I mourn looking at the picture
by the window frame,
does fragrance of her hot beverage
relate to her like colour red to blood?

she with me, she without me.
I should’ve walked on not looking
what I was stepping on.

“I vow she lived well.”

Dear diary,

care to explain where life truly begins?
without time and a mirror,
how could I have met myself
?

I belong to the state,
held together by breath
asleep and unaware, her hope is false hope
kicking in mother’s womb
no longer a bean.

Myne

Love, what it means to me?

the best friend I grew up doing everything with.
One time took liking to my favourite doll,
thought of it moon’s stay, passed it over.
Upon her gleam, held her hand
ran along to our tree house.
Our sleepovers, and fireflies we caught in a bottle
argued about letting them go
while I persisted it’d be us opening the door
for ghosts after they fly away.
Her holding my hand, clarity in the eyes
that never minded my insistent looking; saying

“I’m here with you, don’t be scared.”

falling asleep facing one another,
our hands clasping like the grip
fighting against time.
Next morning, waking to an empty
side that’s never known coldness;
then running to my house faster than
my heartbeat could ever carry my small legs
with tears streaming down my chubby face.

“Ma, did ghosts take Seer away
like they did Papa?”
“Nani, you won’t be seeing Seer anymore.
She has two houses now and like you,
will be living at her mother’s house.”

Love, that’s what it means to me.

Epitome Of Missing Out.

Perhaps my dreams know,
I am a disloyal woman,
not to this life nor world
since I glance at them but,
discord cannot spring as I,
I’ve never truly looked at either
with obedience due their respect
whereas have given me a reflection
and I reflect thoughts both don’t know
were stolen by my curiosity;
but to myself, the woman
planting seeds of those very dreams
and since, I could never give them
what I’ve never had in my possession;
made attempts to produce or acquire,
intimacy when they guide me further
or acceptance of the touch they’ve
held with me consistently,
hence they felt need to leave my head.
Perhaps my dreams, had known from birth;
I am neither supportive nor negligent
but are rather floating in my conscious
would not strengthen my character
to pick even the dust this world and life,
sheds when accommodating me, alas;
I give up…