I remember…


I remember the struggle

Struggle of opening locked doors

Diving in the sand

With a sound of a Katrina

In a silence of my heart

But it was all a memory

 

A memory of playing darts

With my fingers on my stomach

Emptied hands laid in my pockets

With nothing to catch than my own thigh

A memory that never ended

 

It continued to down

That I slept walking into my own past

Baer foot, torn clothes

Wander on the road

With mud on my face

Pushed sideways

With those whose faces were straight

A memory that made me

 

I bowed down and rethought a memory

A memory that was in my hands

That no one could unfold its greatness

Not until I faced straight

Till then a memory was still valid

And mine alone to bear

Until my pockets gets full of all

All that everyone would call a memory.

 

 

Written by Felix Massinda

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