Crown Of Thorns

Replaying on the left side of my heart,

Are the words you said to me,

Still sharp like the wicked crown of thorns.

And they've been distracting my arteries from pumping blood.

I tried to push them to the back of my head,

 But realized that they could ring in my ears,

 Every time I knock my toes.

Everyday has been a struggle,

A battle to detach my thoughts from the truth of those words.

A fight to convince myself that I couldn't trust someone so dumb.

A soul search to teach my body how to be numb.

And my  tears how to slow down.

But how can I win the fight,

When every time I look into your eyes,  

Those words point back at me, 

Dangerous and capable of stabbing.

Be Grateful

Before you ask God to take away some hours from the day and add them in the night, think of the insomniacs. Be grateful.

Dear Heart By Elizabeth Opiyo

 

Dear heart,

I know you're broken. Again.

You feel ugly and lonely

Because the one and only,

is no longer the one.

You can't trace any part of you that once felt beautiful.

Darkness has replaced every part of you that endowed you with light.

And I can feel the pain stabbing and chocking every organ in you that has been strong.

Betrayal is sucking blood from the same veins you've kept loyal. 

While hatred has stolen oxygen from the arteries you've taught love.

You're bleeding and clotting because you don't want to show.

You're sobbing behind the bathroom doors in front of a mirror.

Because the world is not supposed to know.

Because to this world so much strength you owe.

And to your religion, much more.

But I still admire how you are capable of forgiving and healing.

Like a desert saguaro betrayed by the rains yet still holds on to the soil with hopes for another season.

So please introduce me to your god.

Tell him that I need deliverance from a demon of attachment and expectations!

So that dear precious heart,

Before I break you,

I will choose you.

And I'll be able to choose distance over tolerance.

I'll know the exact time to start the race.

And if distance means 100/km per hour,

I'll pace.

Faster than Roger Banister and Usain Bolt.

As if running from Catherine Ndereba and Kipchoge Keino

And I'll keep going,

Like Thomas Sankara with a determination for revolution.

If  I die I die.

Running!