Fair Circle

Life’s like an open door to an empty room,

Full of choices to be made,

Without any sweetness in looking back to what was in nostalgia,

Nor to what is in tread or anticipation.

People you ought to trust most keep secrets from you,

As you keep secrets from people who trust you most,

Having no clue of either’s hearts,

With all that is seen being just a cover.

Consequences come with choices,

Choices made from gathering enough strength,

To walk away from bad ones, for the greater good

And never to regret to regret anything.

There’s nothing better than what you have,

Apart from that which you’ll gain from improving what you have,

For life offers what you desire,

And sometimes, what you can handle even if you did not desire,

Just a fair circle.

Sadique Kwatsima.

Disclaimer

The image used in this poem is not mine. You may retrieve it from https://www.google.com/search?q=life+circle+images&client=firefox-b-ab&tbm=isch&imgil=lxbak3FlrnqTmM%253A%253BBkO6z8k3SQQ9vM%253Bhttps%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.pinterest.com%25252Fexplore%25252Fcircle-of-life%25252F&source=iu&pf=m&fir=lxbak3FlrnqTmM%253A%252CBkO6z8k3SQQ9vM%252C_&usg=__TZFA2YOO19Tok9EoIh3TJjjfwGM%3D&biw=1252&bih=583&dpr=1.09&ved=0ahUKEwjb9YbE9pLVAhViKsAKHdvBA7kQyjcIQA&ei=mQtuWZvFKeLUgAbbg4_ICw#imgrc=lxbak3FlrnqTmM:

 

Red Tear

The Shield is broken,

And the spears have turned against their own.

The red is bleeding,

red blood is trickling all over white.

We are all forgetting what unites us at the top,

Yes, the black at the top,

But busy eliminating all the green,

No more Mau,

No more Taita,

No more Kakamega.

Charcoal black is better than the black at the top of our flag,

Dry logs are now better than our beautiful green nature

Our flag is left bare, just with red

Sores open, bleeding. 

Once, we were all black,

After a common war, a war against the colonialists,

A war we won in the green labyrinth.

But today, I am Wafula

And you are Nyambura,

Since when did we have a common leader,

Apart from them who gave us independence?

Our flag is weeping,

But it is weeping blood.

Peace, love and Unity

The yesterday’s song,

Today’s tribe and tribe and tribe.

Sovereign people,

Sovereign Kenyans,

Don’t we see the extinction we are prodding,

Against our own selves?

Sadique Kwatsima

Love, Kenya.

Nest

Yesterday evening, I saw birds at work.

Busy and happy, all celebrating their work.

As I lied down, just observing without a word.

Away, just with the birds, away from maddening crowd.

Married by nature,

Just with nature and seclusion,

In broad blessed light and perfect air

Recoiling from that foreign breath, to become sane

Developing lesser sensation

Like the birds, to what yesterday offered,

But knack building high up, that reputation

Higher in a taller tree, than the happy birds built.

Sadique.