Happy international women’s day

Psst: I’ve moved. Visit me here http://streetsideconvos.com. Maybe the new blog will be for you. Maybe not.

Hi friends,

Happy international women’s day.

Below I share with you a poem I wrote that was published for a poetry festival in celebration of International women’s day last year. It is titled ‘Grace’.

Later on today I will upload the last two videos I have yet to upload. Enjoy.

Grace

Once again she sat at the house’s entrance
Watching with fascination
As the dutiful sun
completed its course
From our homeland in the east
Where it rose
To our compatriots
In the west where it set
Watching the little boys
Play soccer with the orange fruit
kicking about the red sand
and turning their shirts dirty
Watching the girls play games
And laugh around
while carrying their little siblings
On their backs
I took the locally made stool
And sat down in front of her
She noticed and looked at me
And I began, non-hesitantly
Tell me how you smile graceful woman
Tell me how you laugh from your heart
How did you sustain your hope?
How come the joy in your eyes remains
How could you be so easygoing as to joke?
And where do you find the sincerity
with which to sing a song?
We both know your story
Your life has been filled
With more than its fair share
of uncountable heartaches,
the unforgettable pain of loss,
the stab of betrayal
and will-breaking struggles
Where do you find the strength to live?
How come you watch this sunset
with a priceless wonder?
You have seen more than you remember
She smiled, accentuating her wrinkles
And in them I saw resilience
In the gleam of her eyes
I saw a glimpse of heaven
In her scarcely toothed smile
I saw a rare genuineness
I wondered what she was thinking about
Could it be my youth and ignorance?
Or my passion in asking
Was it nostalgia?
Or fascination
Or admiration
in those eyes?
She took a deep breath
“I realized it was a choice my dear” she said
“And my longevity must owe,
even if in part
to that single realization”.
She wasn’t a woman of many words
Then she motioned at me
A fruit had dropped from the udala tree
“Pick it before the others see it”, she said
I made for it
and we shared it,
grinning like mischievous children
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