This thing will just pass down the lineage, if they all have to be remembered...perhaps by the fig tree planted by her forefathers, silently peeping through the window as they drink and go, one by one.
Dariah dragged herself into the bathroom, the fresh memory hung on the walls of her thoughts like a death sentence executed everyday of her life. She wanted to erase every detail that reminded her of the event on that day,years ago.
I've often had a dream where am trying to escape from someone trying to steal my teeth so I never get to smile...it's not funny;its instead become my greatest fear.
I may not truly wrap my mind around this man's story of death and resurrection, his body buried in no-man's land; his torso in Kenya, feet in Tanzania. I listen very keenly, believing every word from his mouth- he is my father!
So I remember: A young beautiful girl...so much younger than my mother, jumping out of my father's bedroom window. My eyes were only seven years old. But the memory is now 23 years older, very vivid with images intact like the reflection in my...
We sit face to face with a wall between us; I have never seen his face, neither he mine. We describe ourselves and create mental pictures of each other. Then everyday we hold a conversation; I close my eyes and see through the wall: I listen...
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VishnumayaaApril 1, 2015 - 09:42 NIce poem . Anticipating one more poem from you .
celestialmindApril 15, 2015 - 10:35 Thanks Vishnumayaa! I have more on the way.