At the sandy beaches, beneath the dancing palm trees
In a cool Sunday evening when it felt fresh even with abounding salty waters
Something I less expected happened, I met a police officer
And because I feared bullet wounds, I did nothing but just confoundedly stood there to listen to her flunk her allegations against me
For such were always known for such
So she accused me for killing her time for her schedule was already bending
She accused me of robbing her words for she had none in store to throw them to me as she did to other thieves who had tried to cross her lane
She accused me of marijuana because of the painting of weed on my beech shirt
And lastly treason, for only the white in the opera have all these cases on them altogether as me
So my dark skin sounded to her that may be I bleached dark because also my English wasn’t a replica of dark skin tone
And because time waits for no king, it had to wait her schedule and help put weight to my words
So she chained my hands because waiving good bye could be disastrous and would add sob upon agonizing sob if she’d go just like that
But stand there with crossed fingers to see if fate would convince her to oblige to my words
She chained my feet so I couldn’t head my way but stand there till my feeble legs would strengthen by the positive side of her words of return
She finally arrested my heart and I couldn’t feel any blood pumping but mesmerized on her popping possible pictures if things would lead the way
She finally put me on the police van, I see it in my mind
I see the ocs, a woman of iron
It would be lucky if head home with my head on my neck this day,
I think for the first time the temperature has shooted it’s bullet to ninety degrees
She asks of me to give her fully documented evidence that her daughter won’t starve in the waste land we call home
I just nod that things would be cool
Now in the court room,
From this side of the court room, I’ll speak the truth no need of a bible
I’ll even give my words a title, your honor
Infact no need of these chains, I won’t escape
She pressing so close with her pillowry bossom is already a barricade
Please prosecutor charge me of love, am in for it
But your honor, ask this woman that if mummy would be happy,
She’d be the impulse behind the thick of it
Ask her that because mummy was bitten by the sun to make at least it’s rays glitter something into our empty plates
She herself won’t beat around the bush but would play the music of mummy’s intoning words and let it’s rythm bring smiles worth while because mummy has been through alot and it’s just by God’s she’s not through with this life
And because I saw mummy out do herself only to in keep us, your honor, let this woman attest that she’d even go to space to bring the moon down for those kids so they’d understand that the sky is never a limit
And because I’ve come from a puzzled background that doesn’t understand the true meaning of relatives,
Let her write to me soon to attest that she’ll make a good aunt, wife and more
Thank you!
It’s just a poem anyway,
Enjoy your week and please login to www.houseofhope.co.ke/blog for more poems and also never mind to ask me of a special dedicational poem, I won’t hesitate to scribble down one for you my funs
Am here to write and inspire, have a blessed week
By James Musau
#poetictuesdays