December 19, 2012


I have been trying to hear myself think for the past one hour. I cannot. Yet I cannot even make out the conversations around me. Coffee shops make me want to write. Because,  somehow, I can immerse myself in my world of words and still be present to what is happening around me. And just then, I am in my own little nirvana. 

Today, my world of words rejects me, the ability to be present escapes me. It is like the that… that thing… that ability… that essence…. that makes me lost yet very present has been taken away. Now all I am is aware.  Aware of the girl next to me whose phone has been fixed firmly on her ear since she walked in, gave me a quick questioning look as to whether she can share my table. See, normally, I would have noted her as she walked into Java. I would have discussed her in my mind, as my fingers flew across my keyboard going on and on about the guy who shared with me his phone charger. If I had written about him I would have told you how he looked like he loves she who does not love him back. She who makes him wait in coffee shops only to claim that she cannot make it. I would have been thinking about how light the vinegarette they gave me with my chicken strip salad was. I would have been in three places, at the same time. Now i am just in one. Not inside myself, not inside other people's minds. Just aware. Watching, but not really feeling.

As I write this, I am aware of the words I am choosing. I am typing deliberately. This is a foreign feeling. Words fly from that part of the brain they reside to my fingers. I watch them not the screen as you would if you were standing behind me. I am never in control. 

Control. 

See, I am actually not in control of anything right now. I don't even know how to explain this. To me. 

To you. 

*Started this post a last week. And couldn't finish. I am not going to finish it.


I’m a blank page
That’s waiting to be written on
I’m not pure, nor am I clean
But am blank

It’s not that I’ve always been so
It is a state I have chosen
I’m not new, nor am I unique
But I’m blank

I have been written on before
Writings that hurt to the last ink drop
I’m not white, nor am I rare
But am blank

I want a new author to possess me
One with fresh ink and lasting words
I’m not a masterpiece, nor am I artistic
But am blank

I need a new touch and a new story
One of happy endings and sunset rides
I’m not timeless, nor am I ageless
But am blank

I am patient and a patient of life’s art
I need new content scribed on me
I’m not inspiring, nor am I encouraging
But am blank

Wrote this in March 2006

A breath, yours 
soft, hot, chilling 
the ear, mine 
curved - an art on skin 
the meeting of both 
explodes, a confetti of feelings 
a beat becomes a throb 
throbbing madness 
of that breath that still flows 
a begging of hearts 
a pleading of souls 
begging the emptiness of body 
an urging of minds 
that breath that still flows 
into begging hearts 
fills the pleading souls 
walls crumble 
on soft ground they meet the heart 
received, converted into trust 
by the breath that still flows 
excitement abides 
eyes meet and hold 
gazes into abysses of longing 
a tide covers the belonging 
the connection of two hearts at sea 
joined by that breath that still flows 
into that skin, that art 
is but the wind with memory 
spun, ebbed, blown, twisted by time 
made into dreams fused with reality 
the tail of one, the head of the other 
its that breath that still flows

Wrote this in Sept 2008

Let my tears flow
for a love that i've lost
and maybe they might with them
take away the feeling of loss
to pave way for a brighter day

Let my tears flow
for it's as certain as the day dawns
that i shan't ever find one like i had
for the gift of love come from deep within
and the rest maybe mere pretence

Let my tears flow
on and on and on, let them pass
the sorrows reside in my heart not in my eyes
if i cannot loose what aches me fervently
I can, maybe, like i just did, loose what i love

Let my tears flow
and wash my eyes from the fog of dismay
i may be able to able see clearly what i just lost
though not sure if i can regain or get an equivalent
at least, let me see what i had and let go

Let my tears flow
they are all i have left to loose
and i honestly don't want to keep them
if i can't keep a love so divine
why keep the tears then?

*Wrote this in March 2006

Empty

An empty shell
blown away by the winds
distanced from it's familiar shores
desolate, hopeless and lost
unsure of what the future holds...

A dry leaf
detached from the security of the tree
threatened by the harshness of the world
withered, cracky, almost rotten...

A frozen drop
condensed alone in eternal cold
away from the rays so bright and warm
hard, chilly, and frigid
thawing seems foreign a word

A dying flame
left without a hope rekindling
winds blowing, threatening to put it out
dying, dwindling, almost gone
forever perishing in passing smoke

...that is my heart..


*Wrote this in Feb 2006

I don't even know what i want to say. Which is ironic because there is so much to say. I haven't been able to write. Every time I push open my laptop, open a new page, I cry and shut it down. The last time I blogged was for you. The last post was about you. And that time, you called me immediately after. We talked. We laughed  This time, you wont be calling me. We won't talk. We won't laugh.


It's hard to even see this page. Tears cloud the eyes that you called mischievous. I have to do it. Somehow. I let out on this pages. I open my heart on this keyboard. Nothing has ever been this hard to write. 

Where do I start? The night I learnt you were gone? What was happening before I learnt you were no more? The long sleepless night we had as we debated whether to come to hospital and check if it was true, or to just sit and wait? How everything mattered not that night. How we forgot everything that had just happened a few hours before and held each other and cried and cried?

Maybe I should start with getting to hospital and trying to sort out paperwork. And how hard it was to keep hearing 'the body'. I wanted to scream. He is not 'the body'. His name is Bakari. I wanted to scream a lot that day. And also on the day we had that gig for you at Vanillas. I hated everyone there at that moment. Everyone that was drinking and having fun and dancing. I spent most of the night away from the bar. Sitting in the parking lot, talking about you with the boys you grew up with. Alternating that with tears. I couldn't stand to be with the people that looked so happy. I couldn't stand look at your picture on the banner outside the pub. The picture of you healthy and smiling. As if you were there, but not there. 

I know it was crazy and irrational of me to feel that way. What did I want? People to stand around crying and sad? People to talk about nothing but you? But you get it, right? It felt like life had gone on. Moved on, like it did not care that you were not here anymore. 

The painful truth is, life did go on. Life always goes on. But the pain, the pain lives on. Sure, once in a while I forget. Then something will happen, and I will think of you. It's like my tears sit at the edge of my eyes, waiting for that moment.

I have hit depression.

I have never been depressed in my life. Sad part, no one in my life right now understands this. I do not understand this myself. I have been scared of death. I wrote about it a few months ago. How I don't think i will live past my 30th birthday. That's still real. Even more real now. When I met you, it was a breath of life. This happy, courageous, contagiously funny man who made me think that I was stupid for not enjoying my life more. I lived through you. I found a new meaning to life. I did not have to think about the eventuality. I lived for the moment. Like you did. You helped me open my heart up to the possibility of being in love again. Hell, you encouraged me. You told me it was possible. To you, everything was possible. We met at a time in my life where i had given up. Given up on happiness.

It feels like you took away what you gave me when you left. I know the rational thing would be to hold on to that what you gave me, keep your memory alive in my heart by being happy. By taking the bright side of life. But since you left, I can't. 

I keep wondering why I met you, for you to show me what could be, only for you to leave. Someone asked me if I was in love with you after the first blog. I laughed. Because they couldn't understand how you got to me the way you did.  I loved another. You liked that it was him I was in love with. You said because it meant you'd have me in your life longer. And I told you it didn't matter what happened, you and I would always be friends. You made fun of us. You told me you thought we were meant to be.  I loved you. I still love you. I always will. As the best friend anyone could ever ask for. As a brother. As a man who gave selflessly.

I dont know what happens to me now. Because the dark days are back. I can't find joy in anything. I can't be happy. I keep remembering death is cruel and it's stronger than anything I can ever build. Because it takes away in an instant. 

It killed me when they lowered you. When they put the cement, I wanted to rush over and pull it apart. Gnaw at it till my fingers bled. How was I going to leave you down there, all by yourself? Wasn't it cold? Lonely? I am very claustrophobic. I was losing breath. It hit me just then. That was it. You were gone. And I was never hearing your voice again. 

Then I touched the ring you gave me. I hated rings I told you. You said you didnt care, I had to wear it. And you said if he never gives me a ring, he was stupid for that and at least you did. And if he ever does, then you beat him to it because he took too long. This ring, it hurts as much as it makes me smile. Because the day you gave it, we had the most amazing time. We made crazy bets. That I lost. But you made me promise to take care of him. And you vowed to remind me every chance you got. We had too much nyama choma. I went to Amsterdam, as you called it. We had ice-cream with you and the boys. And that was the last day we spent together out of hospital. 

It's like you knew. Now I know you knew. Especially from what we talked about on the last day I visited you. When you asked me to come at lunch hour to be feeding you lunch. Because you wanted to talk to me and evenings were hard time to talk. I never did. Because a few days later, you were taken to ICU. The next time I saw you, they had put you in cabinet in a morgue. And it did not look like you. I know you were there. Because at that moment, looking at you, I felt a calmness. That told me everything was fine. You were not in pain anymore. But that calmness is now gone. Why? Have you left? Are you not here anymore? 

I miss you.





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