Grandchild of God Poetry. All reserved (c)
On one freezing evening
My friend Okoth gave me a frantic gaze
And asked amid chattering teeth
“How are you unshaken in such unforgiving climes?”
And I answered with an enigmatic smile
“It’s the fire inside of me,
That lets me lend out my coat in winter
And run naked on the beach on a summer forenoon”
This unquenchable longing
Is the fierce burn that scorches from the inside out.
Earthenware seasons my bitter herbs
Join me in celebrating all that I have
If you will fold your soft knees to my low table
And sweep the hem of your finery on my mud floor.
For the little I’ll share with you
Is all that I have.
My beloved covets a rose garden
But these flowers I gather
That I pick from every turn
I know not their names
A bouquet of diverse colour and fragrance
They are little flowers of eloquence
The genuine beauty of all that I have.
I speak of my love for this
And before am done my love for that
My love for her and how it influenced my love for him
For that’s the consequence of love’s confusing joy.
The freezing wind won’t turn me cold
My warm heart will condense it to dew
For all the thirsty to drink
If the moon opened to me it’s door
I’d turn my back to paradise
If it meant not taking a brother with me
Even if to me all doors were closed
And I was turned away from every inn
I would rejoice in my wretched existence
Than adorning purple fine linen with hate in my heart.
For in this world of dirt love’s the pearl.
Self-consciousness seeks and becomes one with the divine
And never stops seeking
Self-love loves and come closer to God
And never stops loving.
But what I was seeking in myself I found in you
That loving myself is loving you.
In God’s world of possibilities
His love our true inheritance
And on earth our true purpose.
That love is all that I have.
Therefore I’ll paint my feet with it and tread a million miles.
To the belly of the beast
They cast you like vermin
And haul you into winding waters
To drown in eternal misery.
Of your past I don’t know and never wonder
But if my glass of water will ease your pain
Or my smile warm your heart
Then I’ll gladly balm your bruises,
Many have gone to heaven for lesser acts,
Like a flicker in the darkness.
Take me to the seat of compassion
Where the scent of roses
Shall waft away the stench of resentment
And its sweetest nectar
Choke all bitterness of the past
I want out of these haunted rooms
Behind these curtains,
Lots of failed romance.
Take me there
Where beautiful music is made
Let me join in the chorus
And play little drums to blistered fingers
Play my harmonica to ending breath
Take me there.
Where the world stops
When drunk on love brewed by bonfire
And full on roasted game upon it.
Take me there
Where I’d bare all my fears and pain
All my nakedness to the streamlet
“Come swim with me.”
Take me there
Where it is dangerous as it is beautiful
I am not scared by threat of imminent death
For it is better than drawing breath
And not living at all.
Take me there I beg of you.
Make haste we are losing daylight.
I invented a blissful tale,
Of a handsome young dreamer,
Who traversed these hills,
And stole mama’s heart away
Then dreamt on to distant lands.
I crafted a majestic image,
For when mean boys scolded me at play,
I told them he’s big and strong,
That He’d return and take me upon his shoulder,
Beyond the reach of their scorn.
But when I got home,
I tugged mama’s skirt,
And asked her who he was,
Her face dropped in gloom,
And she pointed me to church.
I dwelt beneath the altar,
Its stones grew moss from my constant tears,
As I prayed my tale would turn true,
I prayed for the handsome dreamer,
And mama’s broken heart.
All this worry has weakened my knees,
My mind boggled to pulp.
The motherland that nature entrusted to me,
Flogs me and mocks my pacing heart,
Sets on the strangest of climes,
To silence my irrefutable laments.
Indifferent souls with their coldness,
Sets winter on the horn of Africa,
And snow falls black,
With no promise of what lies beneath.
The destitute brought down by hunger,
But heartbreak kills them first
By a most unnatural mother.
Who shall lead us on?
When sages have fled to greed’s breasts
And men feigned all reason
Who shall restore our withered faith?
When cities are strewn with drunk priests.
Therefore you run or die where you fall
Stay up or never wake at all.
For me I’ll find solace in the parting clouds
Just like a loan oak
Amidst the vastness of a wheat farm
I’ll embrace solitude among the meek,
In peace under the ethereal sky.
Wondering blues got my feet,
A darling of strange lands.
No child bearer to bring me home,
Just adventurers illusions to take me yonder,
An unscratchable itch,
And nothing to hold me back.
Living off my guitar case,
Sounds of my plucked strings,
And on my light tongue,
A few tunes and the truth.
A runaway from all mortal concerns
Washed over on stranger banks each day,
Sometimes eyes swole shut,
When it was too late to cower,
From angry hounds upon my heels,
To settle down with their maidens.
And sweethearts wailing on my wake.
But neither the sighs of their hearts,
Nor words of their prayers,
Could prevent my flight.
By sunrise on the morrow,
I’ll be upon the wind, long gone!
Lest my feet transform to solid rock.
