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

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s