Sunday, 17 March 2019

Starting Across in the Dead of Night


At 1.59 a.m, a storm rocks the skies ...





Rain drops incessantly tap my rooftop.
Blankly, I stand staring out into the darkness through my window pen
A moment long yearned for with myself.

The heavens continuously cry,
and lightening cuts through the sky
followed by thunder rumbles that shake the torn sky.

Avoiding occasional relapse into paranoia,
I try to find something to base my life upon,
Yet I am afraid of fading time and years going by.

Facing the reality,
I realize that what used to be “good time” is just but dismay,
And with the hope of a better tomorrow, it just comes and goes



Broken dreams, lost love, failures, criticisms, and depression,
Slam my reflection on the past so hard that I stop thinking about it,
But just cling on my ambition that has kept growing and growing.

The rain’s tapping is fading,
And I realize that the storm’s almost over,
And when dawn breaks, I must start over.



At dawn, yet hours away,
Is the life I want, ticking closer every second.
Anxiously waiting, all I have ever wanted was something to live for; to see the dawn.

I don’t want to be a little person anymore,
I just want to be free -
To become what I have fought for, what I want to be.


Sadique Kwatsima

March, 2019

Thursday, 10 January 2019

The Ancestors Legacy


My sons,
Keep vigil over your blood
And every day: invoke your forefathers
To give you a living guide.

My sons,
Tomorrow you will be contaminated
With the Eastern and Western tastes
But remember to offer the daily morsel to our spirits with gratitude.

My sons,
Don’t get too lost in ego and pride,
Denying yourselves the peace and happiness created by our forefathers’ bonds
And live in the cold by icy hands of fate.

My sons,
When you all learn to pull together as a family, and grow wide,
Regardless of mistakes:
You’ll build our beautiful homeland.

My sons,
This is my last word
For even as you advance within the new civilizations,
Keep the teachings of our forefathers – and strive to preserve their pride.

Sadique © 2019

Starting Across in the Dead of Night

At 1.59 a.m, a storm rocks the skies ... Rain drops incessantly tap my rooftop. Blankly, I stand staring out into the dar...