I’ve left the pain, it’s the sorrow that calls my name. I’ve left mourning, it’s the ones I left behind that keep me from moving. So I write. Perhaps they can hear me from the other side of this sheet. Maybe, just maybe they’ll let
The day the clouds coughed dryly, just after the days of the smoldering heat, The day it retched brown water on our roofs and our heads and the gele on mother’s head, The day the smell of the unsalted tears of the clouds kissing the
I’d always loved toy dogs. Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted one. But dad would hear nothing of it. Mum hated dogs and that was it. I mean, what harm could they do? They were just tiny creatures needing love and they also kept company.
Pen to paper, I’ve lost the words To tell To say To describe This abstract feeling that comes When I know that I really don’t Know anything at all; When I look at beauty and all I see Is sadness. When I look at the
My Father’s Children My father’s children were fools, The spectacle of my village people. We danced naked under the first rains Savoring the sweet smell of the cloud’s tears On the dry parched skin of the village floor. Our little feet stomped on the muddy
Darkness used to be cold, but now warmth is all I feel In this enclosed shell of mine. Madness used to drive me on, but now calmness is all I feel I think it’s a sign, I might go, soon. I was used to asking