Dear Lord

 Dear Mdali, Lord Is this on? Sorry, I haven't done this in a while. I hope you're all good up there. Saying that out loud made me realize how absurd that is, but I guess I am that lost. Frankly, I'm tired, beaten and somehow I can't find the one. This is what this is about Lord. A girl. A woman. Where's mine? I do confess I've done my fair share of bad. I've lied, I've cheated, I've been broke among other sins. There's no justification for cheating, I know we often try to find reasons why men cheat. The truth as I see it is we men cheat because we just want to, our lack of inhibition and egocentric pangs of hunger gets the most of us. Then again, I'm not justifying why I did it, I want to understand if that's the reason why I keep getting the Eve bloods on my path. Maybe my rib is defective. Take another one Lord. Most of the Eves you gave me wondered into the world to eat fruits with serpents. Where's the woman you are keeping for m

 Growing up I have heard a lot of talk about the perfect woman. The famous Proverbs 31 virtuous woman. I somehow haven't come across the description of the perfect man. Of course king Lemuel's mother warns him about ‘giving his strength to women' in lay man's language ‘sleeping around'. She tells him about how alcohol will negatively influence his decision making. She encourages him to open his mouth. To speak. To say his truth. To make a stand for what he believes is right. To be the voice of the voiceless. Lastly she gives him tips on how to choose a life partner. So maybe that could work as a yardstick for how a kingly man ought to behave.  I have been hearing a lot of ‘indoda must' kind of talk lately. Indoda iphi? Indoda kabani? You mean your boyfriend or your husband? See I can't help but wonder ukuthi am I the one who is slow on getting on with the program. Indoda mayisebenze ibelemali. Indoda mayibe tall and dark. Indoda must have everything all fig

  Dear Lord, The depth of this song just hits different when you know how its lyrics came to be written. I can't help but wonder what level of faith Horatio Spafford had to sing, to sing a new song after losing so much. I can't help but wonder where he got the strength to write, to write a new song after losing so much. How do you not get to say goodbye or bury your children but choose to sing it is well? How do you not get closure but choose to sing it is well? How do you not regret allowing them to go on vacation as the head of the family? Maybe if I'd said no. Maybe if we'd stayed a little longer. Maybe if I'd traveled with them. But choose to sing it is well? How do you look at the Atlantic again, marvel at creation and sing it is well? When it is those waves that brought about your greatest loss. See he had love. It was taken away. He had family. It was taken away. He had support. It was taken away. Not some of it. Not slowly. No. All of it. All at once. Unexpe

Psalms 61:2 From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. Sighs. I don't know man. Please allow me to vent. I feel so tired. I cannot even bring myself to read. I have hardly been writing too. Actually I haven't been writing at all. All I have been doing is listen to music and sleep. You know, to escape feeling. To escape my reality. The one that does not involve running in a field of daisies with the wind in my hair and the sunshine kissing on my skin. The one that is not so rosy. The one that has got me writing this piece. Yazi, I'm so tired. Ngikhathele of trying you know. A girl can only do so much. I am tired of praying for a miracle. Only to see it being magical for some. I get it. Own lane. Own pace. Whatever. But how come the grass I have been watering just won't grow or let alone turn green. Show me that there is life. That there is hope. I'm tired of staying in my head. Over thinkin