Freedom (Poetry)


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.  

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