When freedom knocks

When we first heard of freedom

We put stress in free and we didn’t think of dom even for a second

The ground became prone to hailstones and it only could be fitting to set our feet where freedom had landed

We only could set hands on surfaces sanitized by freedom, so this “thing” has been in game way before

So our hearts begun beating for freedom as if  all along it had been beating around the bush

We couldn’t see anymore except with the lens of this freedom

So we couldn’t wait anymore for this “thing” to come by itself, we had to go for it

For more than a thousand triumphs, this thing would be dear to us

So dear citizens had to dare their feet to see if they’d run for it, hands if they’d fight for it, eyes to focus and see if they’d see things clear by the help of this lens

Although it claimed thousands of souls that were more dear to us that even a filled claim form wouldn’t assure us that they’ll be back

So dictionary and few elites around couldn’t make it  crystal clear unless this thing comes around and help us see through our charisma

Why didn’t they tell us of this doom when they tore our cheeks with excitement of freedom?

Was money the justice we demanded and reprimanded for?

Is Kariobangi not our home?

But ka hiyo ndio bangi, I wish the landlords knew this before when they struggled to shake no empty hands with the chiefs and bwana D.C  to let homes stand such soil and later host tomorrow’s nation

When they struggled to line up in banks to get loans they had no sure source to service them,

When cement, iron sheets and such could remain in the custody of such unscrupulous foremen who would busy their foreheads looking at their fat tummies and see they don’t shrink,

When the ministry of lands would always ask for something, I think these ministry should be termed as ministry of hands if we were to land at the truth

So their long term effort to push for legit earnings could just be repaid by a pull down by those hedgehogs

When the tenants that were civil servants but the pandemic reduced them to servants of God,

So if today’s president and stuff roam in limousine, let them know that tomorrow’s in roaming in the streets

And if he/she is in a five star hotel, let him/her know that tomorrow’s president is still pondering on where to find bins not to put dust but to sift for food, so he fears not leftovers but to be left over by friends who just found a bin

And if he/she is in a swimming pool, let him know that tomorrow’s president doesn’t know how to swim in a pool of blood in pursuit of food that won’t make him full

 

So the seats we were chasing for has made it clear that seats are nothing if we can’t table anything substantial and worthwhile for some citizen out there that cant afford a chair

Would these leaders say they know nothing about make ups when they develop areas of their own interest?

Hope they understand that this is cosmetic development

I wish they knew the meetings they shun because their pockets would be light

Make our hearts heavy of the plights we flunk to them

 

I thought that 18 was everything,

So with a few days to hit 18, i’d even call my nursery teacher and disapprove her that 18 is not just a number

For when mum would ask me to hold on at least when am 18 to do what she prohibited me to when young

I believed that would be my time, my second initiation that won’t require a doctor’s scalpel or scissors

I believed that was the time to make distant friends through Facebook as was told

Little did I know that the same Facebook would ask what was in my mind, so I fear answering this for my heart is heavy of my past that no one would mind listening or seeing through it

So when Instagram would ask for my photos, I wouldn’t answer because of the blows that this life has hit me and sun burns  trying to help mum set our table, so I have 18 years of perfected ugliness

So when what’s app asks for my status, I can’t answer this for my life is just full of puzzles I can’t solve

And I came to understand that the ID was not a proof of my adulthood but a reproof that I now have to set my own table soon

So the alcohol I thought was fit for an 18 year old was the same I saw it hallucinate many people’s dreams and always remained as dreams, I won’t dare mine

I came to know that this was the time to make good pilot and doctor as I once thought of or choose to doctorate my dreams

So am yet to come to terms with freedom

What is freedom?

 

It’s just a poem anyway

So freedom is the beginning of responsibility

And not an opportunity to enjoy life.

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays