age

chords strike hard,
like they're segregating me
and for what?
i'm tired of not knowing any more.

with every song,
with every note,
you sing me to sleep.
but i want to stay awake,
and you're drugging me to silence.
you're drugging me away.

you want a mute to love.
and i want my man to stay.

the minute i tried to work this life out for us,
i became a threat.
i became a threat for trying
because i filled in for your incapabilities,
trying to complete you like you completed me,
not judging you, just loving you.

but there you sat,
burying me further under the pile 
of paperwork you wanted me to sign.
while i buried in the bills,
in the kids,
while i'm down under,
with the whole department at work
holding me down for a prejudice that belongs to them,
a prejudice that has nothing to do with the way i work,
i'm sorry i can't take the colour of my skin
away from the way my hands move
as i teach the victims of your pasts to
speak the language you sinned against them with.

i can't stop this from taking over.
and i hope i awake,
because my life means nothing without you.
but here i am, the happy fool,
living with a ghost,
while you've been living with a host
as a guest,
in your own home.

everything i did, i did it 
out of love.
and everything you did, you did because 
you were rushed.
all our battles were fought,
without us knowing enough.

now everything i do,
i do to survive.
because my love,
this world is much bigger than just the two of us.
our children live,
and they deserve better than
our example of love.

we're growing old,
you forgot i was still young inside.
you helped me to be young all those years ago,
and now, i've never felt older.
age is what happens when i'm separated from you.
age is what happens when you don't protect me.
age is what happens when we're no longer close.
age is what happens when you say things should have been different.
age is what faces us at every step.
and today,
age is what you reflect.

invictus

mama i'll be on in 3 minutes,

i know i left the house slammin' the door,

but it's my big game,

and daddy, i know you can't stay mad at me

for doing something i love.

i got all ready to play, won't you get up to

look at me go,

red and black,

french braid in.

walking tall like

i made a personal deal

with God that day

to say that if i won

i wouldn't have to surrender to anyone.

see, we're a different kind of brave.

we know what's coming.

and yet we still behave

like we've got all these blessings

but we know all we got

is that jersey on our backs,

the wind at our heels,

the team,

the figures and the stats.

you've got 3 minutes

3 minutes to show us, kid, 

what you trained 52 weeks

and 10 days to win.

yeah the trophy looked nice,

but when when the pain kicks in,

everything else fades,

and all the panic starts to melt

the core of your fibre

as you start to repent,

as you start caving into the ground,

there's scream out your mouth,

and faster than a heartbeat,

you lost something you just 

found.

i know what it's like

and that's why i'm telling you this,

when we make the choice to play

we play to win.

so don't sit there feeling sorry for yourself,

don't do what i did,

get back out there,

get help,

get back in.

we're tough girls,

but we ain't stupid, oh no.

so sister to sister,

let me give you the respect

you deserve,

for standing up to more than

your parents, or the whole world

that asks the same question:
"why were you even playing you silly girl?"

i know what drove you,

and i'm telling you this,

when we make the choice to play

we play to win.

not to be defeated,

or consecrated,

be laughed at,

debilitated.

so you hang in there,
may your pride survive

with the humility this game

teaches us not to deny

because those 3 minutes

they missed,

was the time you owned the field,
making up for all the bruises you couldn't see

but you damn well could feel, 

the one time you proved it to yourself,

that when you made the choice to play the game,

my sister,

you made the choice to win.  
God bless you, and keep you safe.

Get well soon, Amen xx

skinny dipping in your love

there've been times
when i've imagined what it
must be like to have a lover.

when you're so deep in it,
you've memorised the way his neck looks
when the sunlight hits it.
when you know the exact location of that dimple in her cheek,
and when it'll appear, even when it's moments
before she begins to smile, or laugh,
or cry.
what about after all those years,
you still can hear the crack in the air
before his heart breaks
when you've said something horrible to him.
or the time
when you try to get out of bed
almost blowing off the covers,
that ridiculous 'O' made with your chapped thirsty lips,
'cause you're trying so hard not to wake her,
but she still shifts,
searching for the body 
that left behind the warmth
she's still lying in.

but does anyone remember the first moment?
when we go back to adam and eve.
when he doesn't need to undress you with his eyes,
because there's this one beautiful pause..
where both of you have reached the raw point,
where you haven't touched each other clothes,
but you've touched each other souls.
you've moved each others fears
so that they face each other.
your vision suddenly 
is limited only to
the space in between his eyelashes.
and your hands are glued to your sides
for at his touch,
you can almost drink that emotion.
you get so lost,
watching her transform
at your embrace,
enveloping you with those warm
chocolate brown eyes.
you
and 
her,
in the flesh,
soaked
beyond your toes.

the world carries on,
disguised by each other,
on a park bench,
cross-legged on cold stairs,
looking out across the city,
i'm skinny dipping in your love.

thank you mr skype

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
i'm not even your wife.
you're not even my husband.
but i won't get involved.

take me back, to when we would laugh as the kid
walked out the door, in search of mom
who had left to look after her ailing father.
once, twice, thrice a month.
but we're okay.
because you took care of us,
we laughed at the kid.
who thought she was so far away
that she was in australia.
his "australian mama".

fast forward it a couple of years.
the faithful husband feels like the faithful extra.
the wound deepens as the money gets stuck
like a bone in his throat,
piercing through every time he speaks.
he rasps and cuts
with words in between his teeth.

one day,
she says i don't know what to believe,
he'll sell me for money,
he'll sell me real cheap.
so back we go, scarborough fair moved from down the road,
it's a live auction,
for what cannot be bought with gold.

i remember you washing toilets,
cooking lentils over a tiny stove,
your huge frame hovering over us,
making us eat, so you could watch us grow.
polishing our shoes till our faces shone in them,
brushing my hair, so the whole world could see
my face.

then i remember you defeated. pulling that knot of silk away from your neck,
a marks and spencers man, walking in shoes,
that previously we'd have to sell our souls to afford.
you'd sit down and simultaneously, a hand would extend,
the tv zaps on,
and you move from one world onto the next.

you never picked up a brush again,
and you certainly never scared me.
you got old,
and weary. and i could not give you anymore happiness
than a stamp of that A on a piece of paper you never had.
but i had other plans.
see i wanted to see the world, beyond the two extremes i had known.
i wanted to fly away like her,
and i want to feel what some feel,
when they discover they were made for more,
than living the stationary life between the strings of newton's cradle.
i was suffocating,
under your silence,
and yet you were unable
to snap out of your trance,
between the western unions,
and the local masters,
you tried to brave the whip,
but the lashes came.
bottle to your lips,
the lashes fade.
we remained,
we remain.

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
it'd been so long since i heard you.
i don't wear shoes that need shining,
my hair is always in my eyes,
my heart is hurting.
but of course, you can speak to him.
please, please, just don't ever ask,
me that again.
my friend,
my light,
my strength.

voldemort

i burned all my diaries.

i tore up anything, 

anything that held you accountable for what you did.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i close my eyes.

swaying my head from side to side,

my limbs follow,

my hips too.

all of a sudden, 

i'm rising away high above the dull grey ground.

flashback,

clock ticking, ten twenty

sweating bullets, as it's getting heavy

burden like a leash on me,

it ain't on my back,

no they took i by the neck

leading me into the dark

with only a tug here, a tug there to follow

my feet don't stop

they take i 

they take i again and again

till the blood drips 

and i cry.

then i look down.

i left that behind.

i left them all behind.

and now, i'm flying.

i'm free.

but the cold air sweeps across my naked back,

and i'm reminded how metallic that concrete pavement tasted,

the day they threw me out.

for trying to help.

for shouting for peace.

i realised then

that i was too small to understand.

i was too dispensable.

because even in the grand scheme of things,

all that mattered was the way they treated each other.

every time they argued,

that leash would tear at the back of my neck, 

making red streams of tears flow,

tears my body cried

against the confines of my mind.

my arms are stretched away from each other.

i lift my head up high, and even though,

i'm losing altitude,

i'm plummeting,

i want it to end soon.

i know i'll meet my old friends again.

but i want them to know,

i'm no longer what they knew.

i take no sides,

i have no say.

i just want them to see,

that i'll be okay.

i'll crawl on without them,

they can leave their chains on me,

but i'll move on with them.

all that matters is how they treat each other.

because my life will go on,

i'll learn to fly again.

but they'll be left there,

alone on the ground,

if they don't learn to pull each other up,

to the skies,

to our eternal home beyond the stars.

where the greyscale of our lives,

the mundane existence we have lived,

ceases to exist altogether.

the scars left by your chains will heal,

but until then, 

when will you rid your own demons?

when will you join me?

i still love you.

i can't help coming back for you.

and every time it ends, with that metallic taste of blood and concrete in my mouth.

can't we make it different this time?

try harder.

please.

in the morning when i wake.

i'm willing to wait,

wait for love.

i realise the curves of my body

don't match the curves of my mind.

i realise the strength of my conviction

doesn't amount to the time,

or dedication and commitment

he'd deserve.

not yet at least,

i don't to keep anything in reserve.

i want to be able to pull it out,

like a love letter on a bridge,

handing it to you,

with all of me within

it.

i want to be stronger than i am now,

to know that not every moment is special.

moments happen, but there are some only that are special,

some only that stand out.

i want to be able to appreciate them,

without trying to sap them of their magic.

i want to be able to wait,

wait for someone to press play again.

i want to be able to be okay with waiting.

right now,

my impatient young blood

still has a lot to learn.

i need to be a little less kind with my time.

i won't ever get these years back.

i want to lose myself in trying to 

discover all the hidden parts of me,

scattered all across this city.

i want to say with confidence,

i love you.

not to the silhouette of a man against a wall,

a paper curtain reflecting the sincerity of the moment.

no no, i want to be able to say that to myself.

so one day when i look back
9 months heavy,

9 months thin,

i'll be stretched over the depth of those memories.

i'll tell my kid i lived to see myself grow up.

how many adults do you know that can say that?
how many adults remember when they grew up?

that's the thing.

i want to be older, wiser, calmer, better.

but i don't want to be bitter, lonesome, jealous and hurt.

i want to say that i gave myself the time i needed

to grow into a relationship, mamahood, and that 9 to 5 job.

i want to be happy whether i'm average or super-sized,

i want to be happy where i am.

right now,

i'm too discontent.

i can't stay in the same place for too long.

so i'll move, like a vagabond with a secret,

i'm journeying far beyond all my years, and yet

i'm standing awkardly, two feet curving into the

pull of those broad shoulders, those scarred knees.

i'm here, i'm taking myself along with me, on this road i'm on.

i made a promise not to be deserted a long time ago.

but what about the promise not to desert yourself?

what about the time you need to give yourself?

to wait,

to be willing to wait,
for love.

Str!ngin Along

www.sefaliwo.wordpress.com

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fightersalways xx