The mother who chewed her tongue Pt1

 

acimbi
© lindelwa.ccaprojects.net

“We’ve been friends for at least three years,” Sinako said. Astonished.

“You’ve never ee-ve-en men-tion-ed that to me?”

It seemed strange to me too. I mean. Hmm.

Three years is a fairly long time. In all fairness, I never sat and actively thought: this, I will hide!

If it is that I have consciously hidden this part of my life, it must be because of the “poor little fatherless darlings” narrative. I have heard it too often. It wears me out.

On reflection, it must have been in those moments that I wrote a note to self. To remind me to hide this.

I am not sure why…

I may have done so to break away from the stats: the behaviour problems, higher aggression, more likely to go to jail stats. The girls without dads are more likely to become preteen mom stereotypes.

Thinking about it, I quietly laughed to myself in amusement. Wondering if a more academic word had been coined yet for daddy issues. Continue reading “The mother who chewed her tongue Pt1”

Blossomed. Blossoming…

White-Orchards
White-Orchards

Your words, your presence your laughter
What is purpose when it has blossomed?
blossoming…
what is death when the life that lived- breathes beyond the bounds of a burial?
blooming a breathing brimming interminable life?

Is it a loss when purpose has run its course and left its mark?
Is it a loss when death arrives with life having been lived?
Is it a loss when the sands of Gods precious thoughts of your life, now solidly stand
like tall towers of legacy
(thoughts that were written before the foundations of the earth began)

You are a summers bloom-a blossomed purpose
blossoming… Continue reading “Blossomed. Blossoming…”

The joy of breathing among angels

Overnight we begin to refer to you as was and used to be

What remains in the now are the moments in the memory

What rests is the joyfulness in the laughter shared,

Like the yellow in the sun.

Continue reading “The joy of breathing among angels”