He didn’t Die Easy; The Search for Hope Amid Poverty, War and Genocide

A collection of poetry and reflections by African Writer Mary Kimani

Archive for February, 2007

Meeting of Souls

Meet me.

I am infinity.

In me are depths even I haven’t plumbed.

Let’s take a dive together,

blindness is such a misunderstood gift,

let’s discover the unknown.

we have too much “knowledge”

put limits on the unknowable too quickly.

What I want is to go beyond the physical,

beyond that which comes to men and women too easily,

I want to plumb the depths of your soul,

I want you to dive into mine too.

Discover me.

Too much conflict has been put onto that terrible word- ‘love’,

It contains too much ritual,

a holding and tugging at images of ourselves.

I don’t want to use it,

I want to use other words instead,

words that have not yet been overused.

I prefer to say- know me.

Take courage and dive into the abyss,

there you shall find,

not the meaningless drizzle of ‘love’,

but an ocean of life.

You will find the authentic experience

an enveloping, nurturing and warming togetherness

safe from the narrow confines of “normal” human experience.

That is what I seek,

not a relationship,

not a love tryst

not any of these things we have categorised so well,

but a true meeting of the souls.

an unpublished poem by Mary Kimani, dated October 23 2004.



The prayer


Gnarled tree,

Pockmarked and studded

Thousands of fungal outgrowths.

She sits.

And prays.

It marks the central pole of a prayer hut

The kind you never find in the western world

But this is not it.

This is Africa.

She sits

And prays.

Paraffin lamp flickers

Shadows cast around the hut walls

Like gargoyles

Staring at the woman

She prays…

Eyes wide open

Transfixed

By thousands of fungal outgrowths…

Revulsion

Wells up inside her

Heart mottled and pockmarked

Shame resides here

Parastic,

Leaching life,

Faith

Hope..

She prays..

Seeking relief

Finding none

God lives here no more

Only humans…

Ah humans…

Prayers unheard,

Agony abounds

There is no way to undo the hurt

No way to erase the pain

No way to unmake the made

No way to unrape the raped.

And so shame

Grows

Like a fungal outgrowth on this tree…

Life a fungal outgrowth on this heart.

- unpublished poem by Mary Kimani, dated, 31 January 2007

Ramblings of a troubled mind

I have been so afraid.

I start to write and I panic.

Thoughts come like a torrent, threatening to overwhelm me.

So many questions,

so many images,

so many things I want to say,

shout,

cry out—

But they refuse to come out in neat and tidy order.

And so I leave it, turn the page,

start again a few months down the line,

hoping by then there will be less turmoil,

fewer shadows jumping at me from the recesses of my mind—

But they come all over again,

the ramblings of a troubled mind.

 

19 March 2002

Published in ; He Didn’t Die Easy; The Search for Hope amid Poverty, War and Genocide.