Runaway Bride

When I put thing in my own hands, I fill them up to the brim
All with the confidence that I am woman,
Capable of doing anything I set my mind to
And that, I am without a doubt.
For that moment, I enjoy having this load on my shoulder
Super woman, don’t mess!
A whirlwind to reckon with, a force over earth,
That strides in opulence, zing, power and stamina
But then the world becomes heavy,
A sharp excruciating pain flows down my shoulder blades
To the peak of my fingernails
A thin streak of sweat makes its way down my face,
As my legs wobble in a mzungu dance manner
And my feet burn in unfathomable discomfort
As I search for balance.
A knock on the door, and that’s enough
To make me want to collapse into muddled on the floor.
But stand I must, an image to protect a face to hold.
And you knock again!
Thank God it’s You, that you can pass through the key hole when I say come in
That you love me even when I’m haggard and done for,
When I’m weak, when I am exposed.
That You give me rest, that You are tranquility.
That though a lot I can’t muster; You remind me that You are Master of the plan
You got it all in your hands; all I got to do is walk, in your light.
A woman after you, Is all a Woman I can be, is all You need me to be
The rest….
…..is just but my story!
Us’konde 2010

April fool’s Day 2010

On this day, I sat and pondered, the only fool I’ve been so far is uncircumcised in God’s presence. Just as circumcision removes the fore skin, opening room for cleansing and bareness, I realized this is what God asks of me today. He says
“Be bare with me, remove your foreskin and let me cleanse you, let me see the clean you.”
No fakeness, superficiality or masks Around God. He calls me to His purpose. I sing Hosanna to the highest, Amazing grace and Great is thy Faithfulness….. Then I turn and walk away, do the opposite of what I sing.
Where is my brokenness in Christ, where is my foundation, my obedience, servant spirit? Where is the growth of the seed planted in me? Is there any seed at all? Who makes the rules, calls the shots on how I live? What do I live for and what’s the price?
Who’s fooling who?
Sherae 2010

Nebulous Diamond

In myself confused room, the neighbors’ alarm clock echoes through my wall, jolts me to a sudden wake. It’s sunny day someday this year, yet my heart is dark asking which year? Does this jostle ever end? I budget on my loose change economy, Yesterdays fresh milk is my today’s mala.I wonder if mama mwikali will give me ugali ya kobole tonight? This chronic disease causes a sharp pain somewhere around the Right or left ventricle, Maeneo mbali mbali. Incurable ailments of humanity; of soldiers and presidents, of paupers and Sheraes, of the city and the sun. Of answers.
As the day breaks, Stories untold cry for a hearing. Nature’s unseen opens in the glimmering light of day. Silent understanding comes to the surface; Crystal clear yet trapped in a prism. This diamond needs a shape

Sherae

Drums from the South

The horn blower is at it again.
Smoke rises in the air.
Drum beats start from the south
as the villagers start the ensemble in the north.
The Dancer starts swinging her hips, slowly,
to the rhythm of the drums.
The shuffling of the feet,
undulation of the waist
and movement of the shoulder
invigorate as the drummers tempo heightens.

Dust rises from the earth
as her feet hit the ground in a jingle.
She ululates and claps her hands,
her skirt moving in a twirl
as she spins, bewitched by the beat.
She falls with the cadence,
miming the drumer with her movement.
Gradually, the music comes to a halt,
she smiles at the drummer,
bows and takes her leave.

Sherae

My Roller coaster Ride

Wisdom calls aloud in the streets
She raises her voice in the public squares
At the head of the noisy street she cries out
In the gates of the city she makes her speech.
But in my folly, I raise my voice even higher
Trying to muffle her voice but in vain
I run away from her, losing her in the process
But the echoes of her voice still ring in my ear
Her words play back at me like a broken record
I fall along the way in my ignorance
In my own doing I bring myself to infamy
Not in the eyes of men who applaud my fall
But in His eyes whose grace I thrive on
His name indeed is a strong tower
I run to Him and I’m always safe
Many are the plans in my heart,
Some crazy and wild- out of this world
Some of sound intellect and judgment
But I know now- just as I have known always
But clearer now that I have opened my ears to her voice
My mind to her reason
It’s the Lords purpose that prevails.

Sherae

Sunset at Sunrise

The eastern ball rises before matatus unleash their vuvuzelas,
Promising warmth and cheerfulness,
Delight and gratitude,
Just to be dimmed by city madness,
Egotism and voracity

Comes in petite doses,
Moves swiftly through and through,
Overflows the vessels, then gushes out in torrents,
Leaving dizzy spells, weak joints
And an awful feeling of regurgitation.

Sings a serenade,
Calming the nerves and exciting the heart
Then resonates into discord thuds and gongs,
That overworks the muscles
Short of causing a heart attack.

Dances in a foxtrot,
Gliding gaily across the ballroom
Then comes in to a sudden halt
Causing a domino effect,
Falling all the standing.

Smiles with puppy eyes,
Giving rays of hope, despite the distance and difference
Then chameleons into an intimidating frown,
Killing new growth, spreading gloom,

Its sunset at sunrise, never lights up,
Never buds,
Never hopeful, will never know
The beauty of it all, as it blossoms as it grows.

Sherae 2010

Half to- do list

Half a cup full of broken expectations
Half baked dreams
Half a minute of shock
Half an hour of intense rewind
Half a day to reconstruct my life- this life

Half a moment of nostalgia
Before half a thought butts in
The future in half-
Half a heartbeat then it breaks by half
Half a replay, nothing makes sense

Half a phone call
Cut after half a second.
Halfway through my speech
Not even half a love
Hot ball of pain wedged halfway down my throat
As tears blot half my face

Half rhetoric thoughts and dialogue
Half planned, half random
Half to the end- half to life,
My life, our life this life
Half of it sinks in, half wakes up
Renews its resolves, raises beyond the halves
The other half ? I know not


Sherae

Kaleidoscope

Amidst the void and open spaces
The desert and vision less horizons
The sterile skies vast blue
Amidst the voracious thirst and
Overwhelming mirages,
The hushed wind, the voiceless plateau
Amidst the great vague,
Still, I wait,
For the winds symphony,
And the land’s dramatic scenery
For waterfalls extraordinaire
Journeys incredible
And still, for the rainbow
For kaleidoscope colours
I wait.

Sherae

HUSBAND FOR BREAKFAST!

Sitting in their midst

Living in their times

The clock chimes

Three times

Prompts the bell to a dingdong,

Me to their labyrinth

Matted to their tale

Listening to their mendacity

Hiding in my whines

Observing the smiles

That are frowns from inside

Laughing

Yet indifferent from within

Tickles

That aggravate to the bone.

Applauding their act,

Marionette by their strings

A puppet to the heart

That’s slavery indeed.

©Sherae