RETRACING MY FREEDOM
By Eudiah Kamonjo.
Trying to make sense of my existence
This happens every evening…right before sleep overrides me
The uncertainty and the pain may never end
Even when my soul is laid to rest
My poetry will live to tell
The rhythm of the music last Friday evening
Sent my very body to sway and My black fingers to snap
I wondered; would this very thing
lead my great-great-great grand dad to sway his hips?
I have no idea……
See, ain’t my skin the same shadeAs was my great ‘cucu’
Maybe rougher and more wiser
But what more?? All I know is this; these legs are my mothers
Unscared and always clad in shoes
And my childhood?Let me retrace my steps…..
My childhood is that of days sliding in the mud
And living with no worries of tomorrow
Stealing fruits from our neighbours trees
And being a tom-boy for all the world to see
I am now the resultant hope of a myriad generations
By why do I still feel like I’m chained
By this very freedom?
Why are my nights not without a grief
And my needs not without a want?
Has all that beautiful history gone with unfulfilled dreams?
Well, the only answer I got From tracing back my freedom
Is that poetry is my freedom
And my freedom is poetry.
