nights are quiet now here beneath the star's soft gaze

someone i once cherished lingers in empty spaces

here, there, within, without and all around me...

the air i exhale allows me to let go, i let go

and as i let go of him whose soul with mine once entwined

i closed my eyes running back to those days gone bye

i see you my friend, i see you close, and i see you far

a troubled soul roaming, roaming, roaming in despair

meandering like a river through the hands of time

i can see all around you, beneath the bluest skies

we once walked hand in had through meadows

and the sunshine, living only for our smiles

we dreamed, shared secrets, hopes, free and redeemed

the color of the skies painted our daily butterflies

the schemes we made beneath that full moon

tore our bodies with words the earth absorbed,

to carved roots for resentment desorbed

when the bedroom bliss no longer hit good places

no longer pleased, and when love withered

i left you, you let go, i let go, and you... vanished

i remember when in the dark of night,

the vast oceans fed us fresh breaths

fresh water running through our toes, two friends

to foes, shadows had not yet crept into your domains

and when waves lashed over shores we never planed to abandon

we felt the rhythm of the ocean dance to the heartbeat of the moon

a slow cadence our bones memorized before we were born

we were not alone, you were not alone, i was not alone

at night when shadows crept in,

we found solace in each other's hand

three days before the new moon bloomed,

i saw your darkest gaze for the first time

afraid, frozen in a perfect stiff phase

i saw the cracks in the mold of what we held

waiting for the tide to turn,

a holy presence to turn grimaces to grins

but lo, in that darkness you went all in

your spirit fraught with pain

i tried to lend a hand, a guiding light

yet your demons raged and consumed you outright

desperate for answers, i shattered

my heart heavy, with tear - stained eyes

i knew it was time to say goodbye

your path diverged form mine, you see

it was time to let go, and so i let you go

a journey of healing you must seek (without me)

though we may have parted, our memories remain

a bitter sweet melody, a haunting refrain

you were milling here within this vine

your smile is what i kept hanging on

when fate was suffered, and tears dried

i prayed you found solace in a song of peace and grace

and may love's gentle embrace fill your abyss,

those empty spaces wherein your heart lingers,

searching, wondering what else out there... there is

fare-ye-well dear, i release you with love dear

soar on wings of miraculous healing from above

may your spirit find its way back home

so that you may never again feel alone (without me)

I am a writer bereft of words

a barren mother, empty womb -

no eggs'

i am the dormant disease

a festering wound that itches

eaten alive by past experiences

coursing through my veins

devouring to day's presence with tomorrows angst

i feel the puss stealthily moving

like the clock of the womb i carry

that consumed my children

so that they were never born

i am... the grieving lioness

who pounces with vigor at the prey

not so much from hunger or anger

but to fend away all archaic slights

i am the villain of my own story

the one who stumps at the root of joy

so that i can feel the rush

as the baby dies inside, i am a killer of dreams

the one who turns off the light

just as the godly idea sprouts

and often wonder, "who will even care?"

I am wanderer with out a compass

i see the canvas, yet fail to paint in bright colors

i am the problem that compromises the solution

so that the world today

looks exactly like it did yesterday

i am an enemy of progress

an overzealous aggrandizer of the past,

i am the history, and the heritage

through words i am passed on

from generation to the next without question

i am without morals, the morass that keeps you here

i am you...

they too were reborn

the blood lust of my ancestors

the pulse in my veins

they were reborn

when the sun set on that October evening

and the octopus's limb grew from that sinister white stump

the puss from the wound watered the bloodline

and daughters gave birth to sons

and sons grew to men

to replenish depleting bloodline

a word from the moon is that the stars are ready

they were reborn too by they radiance of the galaxies.

Flames of self-determination began the moment I realized that I was the only one with the will to rise to the occasion. If I sacrificed, I'd be a part of something great, I knew this. The world told me that if I worked hard enough I would not want for anything. I was to propel my family name to new heights. I was to carry the torch from my parents to my great-grand children. I had a plan, and the flames of hope in my core propelled me forward. Never starved for anything else but to be and to achieve. You see, when you are raised by have-nots the world reminds you of it often. It strips you off of your worth and spits on you. I was that girl no one saw, no one heard, and never remembered. The amorphous figure moving amongst other ghosts. No matter the light in my eyes, my presence was overshadowed by something else, the shame of a vague background laced with penury and privation. Sometimes this shame morphed into guilt, and I would look up in the sky and say, "it's my fault." I should do something about it. I would cry to my fits in the depth of the night wishing I could be more. So, for many years I stood by my word. I rose well before dawn and retired late into the night trying to find a way out. And of course, the onlookers plied my path with meaningless praises. Some of them toxic, some of them half-useful. Keep going, you go girl, go get it, you deserve it! I was to be the knight in shinning armor in my own story. Why not? The earth did not speak when I spent countless nights ploughing through spreadsheets, preparing for the next exam, the next internship, the next job opportunity that will turn into a long coveted career - I was this close. Always this close. This close to an unreachable goal that I pursued so relentlessly. I knew no better than what I felt was expected of me. And when men in high positions tanked Wall Street in 08, it was my fault. I wasn't working hard enough. As usual I went back to a beast mode, a ferocious pursuit of goals that were getting farther and farther away from me. I met every hurtle with a grin and more words of affirmation recited in front of broken mirrors. Love? What was love to me? Love was a reserved privilege for those girl who were carved out of manikins. Victoria Secret angels of the world, I was nothing of the sort. I was born a worker and the world told me that my worth was tied to my work. So, that's why I never fell in love, never even contemplated it. No one in their right mind falls in love with a function. At least that's what the world said and the earth did not interject. I stayed a lady in waiting inside poorly ventilated cubicles pushing paper, given orders, dictated to. Do this, do that, the deadline is approaching soon. The meaning of life careened past my peripheral view while I was bogged down in the morass of making others rich. Bosses who snapped, threw tantrums, entitled men-children who've never heard a "no" in their lives. Yes, men who threw office supplies every which way telling girls like me that we are diametrically opposed to joy. I was to derive joy from my work. And thus, I worked. I worked for my parents who were never given the chance. I worked for those with privileges to excuse themselves. I worked for the men who sat at the top of the totem pole with impossible demands. I worked for the CEOs and CFOs who smiled all the way to the bank never caring an iota about the welfare of those at the bottom of the ladder. I worked so that the big boys with penthouses for offices can get their yachts custom built in Amsterdam all the while threatening to destroy world heritage sites. I worked so that most of you can spend time online insulting others for no reason at all. I worked for billionaires, true chameleons whose stress levels only reached a boiling point at every tax season. I lost a lot of sleep at night bolstering companies whose foundations were not built with me in mind. I worked for lady bosses, A-type women who stared you down until you felt the skin melting off of your bones. I was hurting badly, psychologically. Food tasted like salt. The voice that propelling me forward over the years when the last reservoirs of strength were depleted also left me. Overwhelmed with tough decisions above my pay grade, yet making half the pay. No days off, I count even take a sick leave. Always reminded that down here the luxury of lollygagging did not exist. They said keep grinding, be the team player, we'll clock you out if you drop down and die though. They didn't care about how hard I fought for this. And how hard I fought for them too. And when the pandemic hit, I blamed myself. Did I do enough for everyone? Yet none of them ever asked, "Are you okay?"

You can’t let the life slip off a pregnant woman

Because she’s carries two spirits

You can’t let the life slip off a pregnant woman

She’s not longer just a single entity

You can’t let the life slip off a pregnant woman

She’s the soil that bolsters the root of another life

You can’t let the life slip off a pregnant woman

She’s the source of heat and hearth

for the future to spring and let be thus

You can’t let the life slip off a pregnant woman

She’s the garden and the guardian

A voice that molds new eden from old hell

what's this scheme?

I'm strung like jerky over barbed wire.

others scale to the top of the hill

while I'm here falling back into the fire

I'm hindered by a swift current of doubts

that I, myself imbibe until I stand motionless

unlifted by the wheeling circle of the mirage

I wilt in the haze of my fears

seeing all opportunities approach and recede

until a white vapor dissolves every hope

so that my future is bleaker and bleaker

I know not of my soul even though I feel my body

That’s never about the rain

Wind or dusty storms

You see, since money became king

And servants do services

high up in a house of glass

Build with gold dug by African infants

Earth was not born of bones

Thought and thrones

Earth is a stone, the sole abode

for anything born to it

So, laws and rules that apply to me

Yet not to you, are not of nature

But just of spite, a malignant brain

It’s never about the rain

Hail or El Niño, it’s the brain

The corporate monster with deep pockets

taking from the Congo and the Amazon

Until Amazon morphed from trees to trillions

We now have such names as trillionaires

Whilst the real Amazonians drown

Or burn, let’s burn them!

Says the executive after the Valdez spilled

They’ll never deign an apology

or descent from their lofty seats

to look at the sea and hear wailing seals

Otters clawing their eyes out

Stung by the the sludge,

Never again to breathe

Yet, they will another DeepWater Horizon

Greed has a color and a home

deeper than the oceans floor

It built empires and destroyed its offsprings

It’s never about the rain

Thunder or bolts of lightning

It’s lightening. Cropping of Vanessa Nakate

What does a Ugandan girl

know about climate change?

It’s never about the surface

It’s about the nadirs, so long in shadows

We see it them now, revealed by time

so bare a caricature, we must all desist

feeding it the fear, a blood stream

it needs for it to exist

over the smooth caramel - rich

drip, drip, the sap of the elm gross

human bodies can't move

bound by mold, sweet sautéed rosemary

clung for ages on grinning ceilings

sorry, my dear, this here

compels your psyche into a disorder

up in here is no entrance to a home

no one is here but the smell

so crude and so sere,

isn't it ironic to look for comfort in a shrine

bedecked with garlands and brier

before rodents cleaned all the bones

there was a faint scent of sage

now, it's all but the tang of old age

age, not of flesh and brittle bones

but that of blazes died down to inferior ashes

to most, home is a passage of time

the rest are walls, monuments not good to us

How will I go home?

If it be a perfect day

I’ll lay down and let eternal slumber devour my breath

I’ll kiss the palms of those around me

and tell them I’m on the verge of eternity

even as my breath begins to climb the turret beyond return

I'll proceed right through diaphanous circles

let sadness not fester in these lines

the earth sanctions death everywhere

roots to roots, my hair too must intertwine with spines of grass

forever is not a mystery in our imagination

the sky is a window to the deliverance

Enceladus shoots wildest to what the eye perceives as voids

she fears no unrest in what was sanctioned

so, she let’s go of her geysers as the sun awakes

with them are her newborn sucklings

eager-eyed, together perhaps a day old

yet their faces are endowed with a magnificent wisdom

knowing that in this cosmic drift, nothing really expires

the fall of one is the rise of another

every breath exhaled fills lurid skies with even more beautiful things

Yesterday, we came home hand in hand

from the start, ours was the best

a marvelous tale to never go stale

I begged you to remember this moment as the best

In the morning I opened windows

to let the sunlight in,

never thinking I’d also let you go

now I only close my eyes and yearn

for the return of a part of me I let go