In words of remorse

Image result for broken heart

I said I had something to tell you and you hang up

The riotous sound of that beep still haunts me you know

I stared at the caller ID till my eyes blinked,

Only this time they blinked the tears I have been holding

I hadn’t seen this coming

A surreal surprise


I know I had put you on hold so many times

So perhaps I should understand that you ran out of patience

Give you another chance even

But you had taken one so many

So before I go on

I hope you now understand my predicament


This poem is not for apology

And no, you haven’t broken my heart

I mean you cannot break what was never your s, can you?

I also know that you are thinking that this is just another of my tantrums

That tomorrow I will call you and still end the sentence with I love you

Well sorry; the six year old that throws tantrums in the mall grows up later


I just thought you should know that my ‘someday’ is today

You remember all those times I told you I had something to say?

First, I wanted you to know that you breathed into my life a will to live, to survive

You explained to me everything in so many words but as I always told you,

I understood you even in silence


Second, whenever I looked into your eyes,

I did not see love,

I saw the rest of my life laid neatly in rows and columns

You were at the center of it all

I saw us wishing for each other upon the same star

What I am saying is that I saw our future in your eyes

And maybe we were meant to be, we just did it wrong


Third is that those dreams you had of me and were afraid to tell me,

I had them too

You were not insane when you said something I had not told you in our walks

I remember now that it is in the dreams that we talked the most

Maybe that’s why I ran short for words whenever I was about to say something

That’s how we came to this end, I never said anything

Isn’t it weird how when the story ends we begin to feel all of it?


Fourth is to let you know that when I said I loved you,

I lied

I do not know what love should feel like

I don’t know what it should look like either

I guess I bottled up all those emotions I had for you and called it love

Maybe I just realized

That my eyes were not bright enough to chase the demons in you

And that I wasn’t sure if loving you stained me or brought color into my life


Fifth is to explain why this feels like farewell


Sixth is that this is not farewell

It is just another way of me saying that I still love you

Even if I have no idea what that is

This is me saying that you are in my dreams even when I am awake

I still see our future in your eyes

This is me saying that of course you broke my heart,

Only that you broke it in all the right places.


Seven, well seven is just for you to know that

The love I have for you broke me

And now I have to let that love heal me.



Image result for sunrise

A knot is forming in my stomach
Hairs align at the base of my arms
my sunken cheeks feel hollow
I can taste the caramel of my teeth
cracking for biting too much on themselves
bewilderment departs my heart
profound sadness washes away the glory once in my eyes
the bony skeleton of me watches in dismay
the cracked wall
the dwindling light of the candle flickering in a distance
then ,the daunting darkness that slowly envelops
my wobble knees give away and I fall to the ground
cold fluid that is my blood drenches me
and I lay there ,seemingly lifeless
my spirit dead,
my flesh clinging to a thin thread of life
then,the inviting light on the other side of the peripheral
I start to hear murmurs far beyond my scope
coming closer, sounding more like an orchestra
I start to feel my toes again
the lids of my eyes flutter in perfect rhythm
all my organs respond in sync
my eyes shoot wide open
the spirit within me settles back in
renewed energy falls in the pit of my stomach
I am reborn!
and I rise to my feet
looking around
I marvel at the restoration of glory I had once known
I am reborn!



Sinking on the couch is what I do most lately

Pizza, popcorn and champagne

Movies and music

Have become my only companions

I do not get my hair fixed

I forgot all about make-up

I do not party anymore

The humming of the coffee maker

The sweet aroma that once downed my nostrils

Have become a thing of the past

The house’ silence haunts my soul

The rooms are way too large

The nights turned to centuries

I do not sleep anymore

Every part of me feels your absence

All we built together scream to me that you left

My enemies now have something

To waggle their tongues about

My heart bleeds

Tears build up inside my drums

I can do nothing but oblige

I do not laugh anymore

You left me at the approach of dawn

My voice calling for you

Felt like the whistling of the wind

In an empty and torn continent

I feel distraught, my soul aches for you

I miss all of you

And I hope you know

That although you left

I will love you till my last breath.



Trees sway as wind blows,

On my face eyes widen with a glow

Something perfect is running

Perhaps perfect than the summer sunning

And I remember…the fall

Oh I remember it all

It started like a raindrop


Surging forward for a gasp of fresh air

Thank God ’cause its when I saw you in the rear

In your jeans and jacket so gray

My heart whispered “don’t move I pray”

Then you did the unthinkable

You walked towards me and my knees became feeble

Like a raindrop,you made me react on instant


Transfixed on the spot

That became my moment…our moment

I like sleeping beauty

Waiting upon her prince charming so mighty

And you like a movie hero

Bridging the steps all the way to zero

And just like a raindrop wetting the ground beneath.


When you kissed my lips

Something in me bloomed like spring tulips

Your skin on my skin

Bore deep than the pinch of a pin

And then you whispered “I love you”

And all my doubts away they flew

‘Cause like a raindrop,you turned into rain and drenched me in romance.


I am standing at the rooftop of vision plaza in Juja in this cool evening. The night is falling in and the clouds have that spectacular reflection of the sun rays making it beckon my sight to it. The lights of the busy super highway are flickering beautifully in a distance. On the other side the birds fly from branch to branch and the leaves rustle wildly maybe in retribution of the uncalled for disturbance.

I could step into the evening bliss but my mind wanders to a land I did not know existed…At least until not recently. A land that envelopes my entire being and consumes me with a raging fire. It doesn’t hurt…The fire. It just evokes feelings in me. Feelings I did not realize I’d lost but which I had been lacking all along. Feelings that only come at night when I can’t sleep and I could easily blame insomnia. My Momma says that I should try counting the star-stickers on my ceiling. Maybe boredom will send me to sleep but the only things I can count are the endless reasons I should stay awake.

So I lay there. Allowing my eyes to swim in the ocean of my tears. Staring into the pit of darkness above me and listening to the echo of my heartbeat from the hollow and haunted auditorium that is my chest. My teeth grit and I struggle to free myself. Free myself from the strong arms with weak wrists that are holding me hostage. My knees knock on one another and my legs wobble every time I try to stand. It feels like I have been left to carry the weight of the world by myself. I cry some more.

This is not the part where I am struggling to fight against my own demons. It is more like I am fighting for them. Using every ounce of strength I have within me for their liberation. Set them free so I can make rational decisions. Set them free so I will be accountable for my actions without having to blame anyone.

I could have accepted the invitation of this evening breeze, savored every moment of its bliss but how can I? How can I act like everything is rosy and smelling of lavender when my friend lies in a morgue lifeless? How can everything be normal? Does that word even have meaning anymore?

It was not long since I wrote a poem for her. Not the easy kind, I sat there staring at my computer screen trying to decide which of my twenty one phrases would do justice to her impeccable personality and beauty. Maggie…She was a writer too so the bar was already beyond my standards. I was going to give it her sometimes next week you know, watch her read the first line while I sip my cold tea and wait for the timely critic. She never patted me on the back and whispered congratulatory messages to my ears. The closest I ever to a ‘congrats’ was a twisted line full of sarcasm that I can’t quite remember.Now she’ll never get to read my poem.

I never took her in bad faith. I knew she was my greatest supporter she just couldn’t say it to my face for fear that I would relax. She pushed me to the extreme and with time, I realized a better writer within myself. In her face I saw another version of me, a sister and a mother. She was an inspiration and now, all that she was has been taken by another troubled soul.

I do not know when love stopped to be sweet and enchanting and turned to this bitter, painful skeleton that I can hardly recognize. A shadow of its former self that now kills in cold blood and feels good about it. I need to know what it is that we are doing wrong to make the love in us turn to murderers. Do we have so many problems that we simply can’t find the solutions to or are we blindly living without even realizing that we have problems? Is our ignorance eating at us slowly everyday and making us despicable creatures that are resolving to taking our own lives as well those of the people we love? How messed up have we truly become? How far from the will of God are we living? Is there anything enticing about death that is making us want to slaughter ourselves and drag our loved ones into it?

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices . It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres… {1 Corinthians 13:6-7 NIV}

I could have enjoyed the evening that seems so romantic with the orange sun disappearing into the clouds somewhere in a distance. But I drifted to this other land that consumes me with a raging fire. It doesn’t hurt…the fire. It just evokes feelings in me. Feelings I had not realized I’d lost but which Id been lacking all along. Feelings of jealousy, anger and self pity. Jealous at Maggie for going to a better place and angry at her too for leaving me to survive in this inhumane world, leaving me to find a way towards our redemption.

So instead of taking in the joys of creation, I stand there supporting myself with the railings and allow my waterworks to take charge.


What would you do if you woke up one morning or night for that matter and found an infant wrapped nicely at your doorstep?Would you take the tiny human into your arms feed it and rock it to sleep or would you reject it and leave it to the cold and hope that it will have disappeared by the time you step out again.Would you be able to live with the guilt of rejecting a helpless infant?

Anyway,I don’t want to guilt anyone on that accord.I am more concerned with if people really care about how rejection feels.Believe me when I say that no one is usually too young to be hurt by the simple yet enormous act of being rejected.

Rejection is more like death.It gives your spirit a blow that you may or may never recover from. It eats at your soul slowly without you even realizing that a piece of you is falling into a ditch.It consumes you and leaves you feeling like you are not worthy of anything or anyone.The much a person is rejected,the much self involved he or she becomes.The whole world stops existing for that person.Insecurity sets in together with doubt and self blame.

A sociopath or a psychopath is bred all because a family member, a friend or a lover was not brave enough to deal with a different kind of special.The first time I dealt with being rejected was worse.I kept telling myself that maybe I was wrong and perhaps that’s why nobody could agree with me or in the least congratulate me on anything.I started to read in dumpsites so that I would not feel as crazy as they all said I was.Reading gave me solace.It resonated with me and before I knew it,I was creating this incredible stories in my  head in which I was the heroine.

The characters of my stories became my cheer squad.With time,I stopped seeking approval from people. I had created my perfect bubble-world. My characters worshiped me and I couldn’t ask for more.Jasmine and Christopher:my favorite characters became my friends…my family.

Rejection, however, always finds a way to creep back in.Especially when you have already found a distraction from it.It was not long until I realized that my characters were a part of my fantasy.That sooner or later,I’d have to face my reality.The truth is,rejection is more of a self blame game.It hurts more when you start to actually feel rejected,When everything those who rejected you said about you starts to make sense.

When you are a young girl you feel out of place and not smart enough,as a teen you don’t feel pretty enough and when in your post teen years,that boy with whom you have created a family in your head makes you feel like you are and can never be good enough for anyone.When all these things start to make more sense when you say them other than when other people say them,it stops feeling like you are being rejected.It starts feeling like its you who’ve been living the wrong life all this while.At least that’s how it was for me.

The next resolve after this realization is usually to rise against all the terrible things people are rejecting you for or fall into self pity which ultimately leads to self destruction.To some people, committing suicide starts to sound like a much better option.

The second and third resolves are accelerated by what I think is the only way to deal with a lot of things that are a product of our minds-Fear.Being afraid to face those who rejected us and make them see how wrong they were about us.Sometimes we are not actually rejected by those we love.We are just afraid that our actions will make them reject us.

Overcoming our fears and shortcomings is the only sure way of dealing with rejection.I was not afraid of the characters in my stories judging me or saying mean things about me because I created them.I owned the story and could do with it whatever I pleased.So own your actions and your life in general.That way, you will not be in constant fear of what the outcome will be.

Most importantly,make sure you believe in what you do or what you stand for.As Zero Dean said,“Rejection is either an indication of value and talent.Remember that.If you believe in what you have to offer,then don’t stop offering it simply because some of those you offer it to reject it.Most people are simply not very good in recognizing talent or value.It doesn’t mean that you will not eventually find an audience that will.”




In the mind of Pat…

“Do you ever get scared?” He asked

“Scared of what?” I asked in surreal surprise

Sang was never one to show concern and his voice that night took me in utter shock. He was more of what you could call laid back. Carefree as the birds and never let emotions get the better of him. His actions and words were always devoid of any touch of empathy. When I think of it now, I still do not understand why I took walks with him. Long ones at that. Maybe I was just lonely and wanted someone I could have small talks with. Someone I could completely be insane with and not care what he thought of me…I mean he made it easy. He entertained my crazy attitude and I was more than okay with that. Maybe along the way I got too comfortable and he probably took it as a sign to something. Something that had no future.

“Of falling, you know falling in love” He replied.  His patrician eyes fixated directly at me. I held his gaze for a moment then lowered it. I was taken aback. The truth is, I had never thought of falling. I mean I understood all along that it was inevitable .I just never thought of me actually falling in love. The idea of it scared the bejesus out of me.

“No, um…I mean yeah, of course I get scared. You know, what if I fall for someone who cannot love me back…or worse what if I fall for someone who is already attached?”

I had seen couples in love and trust me; there is nothing I loved better than romance. I could sit for eighteen hours just watching people fall in and out of love. Sometimes the things people do in the name of love are outrageous but they still stick with one another. I just saw a couple in which the man had Alzheimer’s disease and for the pain to go away, he had to watch pornography. It calmed his nerves as he said and when the wife was asked if she gets bothered by it, if she ever feels demeaned by the fact that her husband could spend 24 hours a day watching it, she said that she was appreciative of it. She said that whatever could take the pain off of her Henry, she was so game. That kind of love is scary. Putting your entire principles and beliefs at bay for the sake of the one you love is scary and I just don’t think am ripe enough for that.

“So what if it’s a mutual relationship. I mean one that is totally consensual and you are both over the moon for one another. The kind of love that makes you go ballistic and make you feel like you see the sun rising from your partners eyes…Don’t you think that you are a bit cynical about it?”
“Cynical?” I say holding in a giggle.

“I am not cynical about anything. I am just cautious. Too cautious perhaps but does a tortoise ever gets hurt for walking too slowly. I just don’t want my life to turn to a labyrinth just like that. I mean I am just starting my life. For Petes sake Sang…I am barely twenty years old and I don’t want my life to be miserable. Love sometimes makes people that you know. The thing is…I don’t know how to fill my heart with love without filling it with fear.”

“But you also know that it’s said it’s better to have and lost than never to have loved at all, don’t you Pat.

“Of course I do”

“Am just saying that people drown every time but the same people still miss the ocean. Some things are risks Pat…You risk the whole world knowing about what goes through your mind when you write…well guess what…Love is a risk too.”

“Sounds too crude to be true but what can I say…am young and have a whole life ahead of me to discover about love…Am scared too, remember?”




I have seen her…

is (1)I have seen her. The girl that lives across the street, whose patio overlooks mine. I saw her yesterday. I had seen her many times before that and maybe by just seeing her, I fell in love. I just saw her today, leaving through the back door, more like sneaking out of her own apartment. Her face looked like Christmas morning and her eyes…oh her eyes were like Christmas lights dancing beneath the dark of the sky. Her laughter as she caught up with her friends rings in my head; that of today stringing with that of yesterday and creating a music that had never downed my ears before. If perfection was a person, she was that person.

I watched her as she walked down the street a happy step after another and remembering to greet every other person she passed as she went. She was like a monument placed at the centre of a city that everybody stops just to look at. Her body a masterpiece that the artists cannot dare sell the original…just the copies. Her life was a captivating novel, a bestseller with the next chapter better than the last. Everybody loved her. She had the world at her feet. A massive following on social media. A trendsetter in the younger generation. Every conversation had to start with her name. A party would never kick off without her. She was the doll made out of glass that everyone handled with caution boys and girls alike.

I have seen her. I have seen the way she walks back to her apartment her frail body in the palms of her hands and almost falling. I have seen it all. The dark circles beneath her eyes and the weak lines at the corners of her mouth. She just came in right now and I can see that she is hurting. Her hands are clutching her cheeks and her knees are up to her chin. I can see the tears that are at the verge of washing through to her heart. It’s not her first day to do this. She does it quite often. Actually she does it every time she is alone.

She is an introvert who has been caught up in the body of an extrovert. None of her friends knows what makes her tick and it’s not because they can’t, she just can’t let them close enough. She is an outspoken person, at least that’s what the whole world thinks but none of what she thinks has ever escaped her being in form of words.

I have seen her run for her green notebook and scribble her thoughts. I have seen the way her lips move with the rhythm of the pen. I have also seen the way sometimes the words refuse her calling. The way the tip of her pen drips black ink when her soul and heart are in blankness and blackness is the only thing they can bring forth.

I have seen the way she hangs her legs on the left side of her bed and reads to herself until she collapses into a deep slumber. I have seen the way she wakes up alarmed it the middle of the night her face pale and skin pallid. I have seen how ghostly she looks after a long night of fighting with her own spirit and how she slowly practices her smile until its perfect for her façade persona. I have seen her. Even now as she looks directly at me and pinching herself to remind herself to smile. I have seen it all. And in seeing I have fallen in love with her once again every day.

I almost pinch myself too to remind myself to smile, but then I remember that that’s her work. It’s for the girl who lives across the street, whose patio overlooks mine that’s supposed to play that part of my life for me.



Scars to my beautiful

“So Patricia tell me about an incidence in which you remember being truly happy” The girl in the mirror says looking straight at me. I stare back at her and then stare deeply into my soul. Her question rings in my head and I can hear my entire body screaming the answer. I do not want to believe it so I start the assessment. Truly happy…

“What do you mean by truly happy?” I ask

“Oh come on Pat, you know exactly what I mean…Like you just want to run wild and fulfill the last of your heart desires, the moment you cast all your fears into oblivion and let the jitters in your heart take charge…The moments that you think about later and you are proud of them …moments that are just not a lapse in your judgment, they make your entire system vibrate in perfect sync.”

I get dumbfounded for a moment and I slowly leave the girl in the mirror. I curl up in a corner in dejection as I always do and let my heart cry. Flashes of memory start to torment my brain and then it becomes like a film, no lapses, just a smooth uninterrupted film of what I had always remembered to forget.

I see myself as a young girl in a bus sitting on the laps of my grandmother. She looks weary; there are tears in her eyes as she keeps telling me how she was taking me to a place where I would be happy. A place where I would find good aunties and uncles who would take immaculate care of me. She talks of sister that I would grow to love and who would love me in return and in my four year old body, the idea of having sisters entice me just like the mention of ice-cream and candy would.

We alight from the bus with nothing but the medium polythene bag in which we had packed a few of my ‘good’ shirts and shorts. I hold tightly on my grannies skirt as we cross the road just as she had asked me to and she leads me into a compound with stone houses and perfectly groomed lawns. I think to myself that maybe I would find happiness in this kind of environment considering I had come from a place where a fence, leave alone a lawn was unheard of. My granny’s house was a combination of soil and cow dung for the walls and iron sheets that leaked when it rained so obviously, this was paradise for me.

Ann, the caretaker offered me mango juice and some Manji biscuits and I was sure I had never taken anything as sweet before. My wholeness was thwarted by the idea of leaving my year old brother under the care of my sickly grandmother but they had said they only wanted girls for the program. It’s not like there was anything I would have done for him even if I stayed but you know, with our mother out of the picture, filial love was something we could both use.

I was not sure of what to feel when my grandmother finally left. A part of me wanted to go with her yet another part of me wanted to join the group of five kids that were running around the field and making me jealous of the fun they were having. Ann must have noticed my indecisiveness so she assured me that it was okay to join the playing kids and that my granny would come to get me in the evening.

Dusk set in with no sign of my grandma and that’s when it hit me, staying was not a choice. I had to in one way or another. Crying in big ugly gulping sobs, I realized that I at four years of age, I was stuck in a prison otherwise known as a children’s home. I saw my chance at happiness slowly crawling away and a suffocating cloud of sadness washed over me…



You are gone it’s true

A true fact but my heart says it’s false

I have tried to let you go

But I am not bound to

I think we were sealed

And put under this dome

Dome of unending passion

You’ll go to this edge

And I to the other

…But right there …at the center,

We meet again

You cross the tunnels downwards

And I climb the hills upwards

But down there and up here

The dome has cut

We can’t be free unless we endeavor

Cause we were meant to be

I pretend never knowing you

I deny ever loving you

And I can no longer stretch my limits

The truth is glaring

Intense and immense

I just surrender.