Dear Lord

  Dear Lord, I worry about  her aging all alone. I wonder how it feels like to fall so deep in love and then watch it fade. I worry about her trying to grab hold of the violent wind. Only to sleep at night with nothing to hold. No one to hold her. No one to share her hopes with. No one to share her fears with. No one to share her dreams with. Does she still dream? I worry about her telling her daughter that if she was given a time machine she would go back in time and not get married. How will her baby girl confidently walk down the aisle not knowing what awaits beyond the ‘I dos’? How will her baby girl confidently walk down the aisle when all she knows are broken hearts and a cold home beyond the ‘I dos’? How will her baby girl stop looking for reason not to walk down the aisle in fear of history repeating itself through her beyond the ‘I dos’? How will her baby girl receive a love she's never seen being given beyond the ‘I dos’? I worry about her watching her sons grow into...

 Dear Lord, The moment I told the barber I want to go bald he laughed. Helped me with the apron. Changed the hair clippers of the shaving machine. He then looked me in the eye. Note. Not through the mirror in front of us. But straight into them and went like, umpabanga? Are you sure? At this point am now laughing. And affirm I want it all off. I was ready to step into a territory inhabited by a few brave individuals. Individuals with no ‘abantu bazothini’ syndrome. Individuals who own the bald look. He then says how he thought I was just messing with him and the conversation quickly shifts to how angry I must be, to take it all on my hair as he started to get busy doing what he knows best. Angry? How can one think a crown reset is all about emotions? Anger for that matter. Forgive their questioning stares Lord. Forgive them for conforming to ideas of seclusion and segregation nomatter how small. Forgive them for assuming that I am angry for having a new hair do. Lol. When he was do...

Dear Lord, I wish I had a little control over the things that happen in my life. I wish I knew how to respond to every question that I ask myself. I wish I couldn't feel any emotions. I wish I could see into the future. I wish I could change people's stories. One sentence at a time. I wish I had control over time. Fly through it back and forth. I wish I had Cupid's bow and arrow. Get to enjoy umjolo. I wish life wasn't a maze. I wish music could not only make us dance but set us free. Give us wings. I wish I was confident enough not to bury the gifts I have but to use them to your glory. I wish I prayed more. Effectual fervent prayers that availeth much. I wish I didn't doubt your power at times. No matter how much the waves rise against me. I wish making the right choices was easier. I wish I didn't miss him this much. I wish the rain could cleanse our hurting land. I wish I only worry about things that matter. But again who by worrying has added a day to his l...

  He left me out of breath with that kiss at midnight. Hehehe. Hello 2021. I am not sure if it's the way he looked into my eyes as he drew me close. Or. The way he whispered ‘happy new year baby' into my ears with his dreamy voice. Or. The way he made me dance with him when the band played Sondela by Ringo. Or. The way he was acting all possessive, like am his alone, and he don't share. Never. Ever. Or. The way he held my hand, like he will never. Ever. Let go as went to watch the fireworks display outside. Or. The way he kissed my forehead after tucking me in, in the early hours of the morning. Or. The way he left the painkillers. Two of them. Water and a cheesy ‘Rest. I'll bring supper. xoxo' note on my nightstand. I am still not sure what it is that made me send the text message. Fingers crossed. He has seen it. He is typing. He has stopped typing. Okay maybe he was disrupted. Recording. Yaaay! I prefer voice notes. Oh stops. Blueticks. Nothing. Two hours. Bluet...

 Dear Lord, I don't remember ever being this mad in my short life. Matter of fact. I have never been this mad in my short life. I have been unable to bring myself to kneel down and pray. I am mad for feeling stuck. Stagnant. Not moving forward. Not moving upward. Not having super powers to change it. Because I am so imperfect I want to blame someone for it. Africa the mother of mankind maybe. I am mad at her for lagging so far behind in terms of development. I am mad at having been kissed by the sun. Maybe just maybe. If I didn't have this brown skin. This melanin. Life would be a grand gongo. But then we are all dust. All mortal. All equal. So whatever. I am mad at the men who look at women. Beautiful. Strong. Intelligent women. But only see punching bags. They forget women cannot take repeated and constant physical abuse without breaking. But they choose to crush them. Body. Soul. And spirit. Whatever happened to protecting your own? I am mad at women who sleep around with ...

 Dear Lord, Here I am watching the cold droplets of water kiss my skin as I still myself underneath the shower head. If only the water could wash away my guilty conscience. Deeply cleanse my soul. If only I could forget how great it tasted. Stolen berries. Dark berries. Juicy berries. If only I could forget how good it felt. The cuddles. The kisses underneath those expensive white sheets. If only I could forget how brand new the crisp hundred dollar notes smelt. Bills for the next six months taken care of. If only I could forget the look on her face when she walked in on us. Her first love. And probably her last. That is if she remembers her promise despite the hurt. Despite the defiled marriage bed. A vow to let only death do them part. If only I could forgive myself for the ruin I have caused. I have used him. I have used me. I have made a mistake. I have sinned and fallen short of your glory God. If only I could bring myself to answer the question she asked. Let alone forget it....

 Dear Lord, I did not follow the man in his lifetime. He loved sport cars and could afford them. I love big cars and cannot afford them. Yet. Haha. We clearly had nothing in common. However, I have been closely following his death. May his soul rest in peace. What I can't shake off is how the ladies burnt to death. Umlotha. Beyond recognition. In my distress I always cry out to you Lord. I wonder if they did the same, as the flames consumed them. I wonder if they said little prayers. Did they whisper to your loving ears? Loud whispers? ‘Lord, it hurts, please take the pain away?' ‘Lord, keep my family for me?' ‘Lord, save me I promise to be a nun?' ‘Lord, it is finished, I commit my spirit unto you?' ‘Lord, make my death a lil faster?' ‘Lord, I'm not ready to leave it all behind.' ‘Lord, it has been a good life, thank you.' Did you wince when you heard their soul retching screams? Did you wince when you watched them burn from beauty to ashes? Did you...