First published by Kweeta.com. Processing my passport has been on every “To-Do” list I have made for the last 7 months. I kept putting it off, largely because it wasn’t urgent and from what I’d heard, the process was quite... Continue Reading →
I have a giant scar on my left shoulder. It is about three centimetres long and one inch thick, for now. Sometimes I have bad dreams that I will wake up one morning and find scar where my arm once... Continue Reading →
This is no ordinary Blog post, THIS IS A CANCER MOVEMENT…
This did not start today, No today we wage WAR…
Today we are running 20 laps instead of three,
Today we are writing 4blogs in the place of One…. Because
This is no ordinary blog post, THIS IS A CANCER MOVEMENT..
Yesterday you woke me up to go to work, Today i woke you up to try and swallow 2 spoonfuls of water.
Yesterday I sat on yo lap, Today I helped you lift your hand for a better position..
Yesterday you Bought me Java’s Caribbean jerk, Today you crave it but can’t have it..
we were both not not ready for this PAIN, but it came and it waged WAR…
NOW we raise up too…. WE ARE WAGING WAR.
We will fight and Make my words SWORDS we will WIN, WE WILL WIN..
These knees will change address…
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It was when he said the fifth Amen in the same sentence that I began to question my presence in his church. His name was projected on the large screen in block orange letters, the chair I was seated on,... Continue Reading →
Whatever keeps your thoughts rolling at night, do it. Whatever screams at you so loud that you can not ignore it, Do it. Do what you want to do, what you love to do. Do it and do it well.... Continue Reading →
What does climate change mean to you? What are the implications of the climatic changes the earth is undergoing on our livelihood? What have we done to stall these changes and make sure the future generations find a planet as... Continue Reading →
Wow! This went straight to the heart.
I hate eulogies. Like political campaign speeches, they’re fancy, empty words seldom reflecting the true feelings of the speaker for the deceased. Why speak this flowery language to the dust if it was unspoken between breaths? Why compose beautiful odes to yesterdays that can’t be appreciated by the muse? We rely on the living for that. Eulogies are polished until they can wring hearts and tingle tear ducts. Well received, it elicits praise from mourners, stroking the ego of the speaker. And yet, here I am rehearsing one in my head.
I’m sitting next to your mom and two sons. Your husband is markedly absent for reasons you already know. Your mom’s white handkerchief is stained a light brown from wiping sweat, and sometimes tears. She’s staring straight ahead at the reverend sermonising. I look down at the words I’ll be reading to the mourning crowd in a few minutes…
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