this morning.

this morning
you deserve a poem without my mourning
your absence. as i rise this morning
and count the blessings and not the mourning

and lamentation of my soul and mind.
i rise to your kiss in my soul ever so kind
a quiet reminder i don’t need to seek you to find
you-exist. i see you past this blind

curve we’ve been thrown into
but we both know there’s no destination to
drive to when our souls have found a way to
shape shift beyond galaxies and worlds in order to

keep us together
to shelter us from the weather
to answer the question whether
there’s an afterlife where we can be together

once more we’re untouched by death
instead, it plunged us into a wealth
of love that nurses us to health
from the sores of death

which we do not fear
which we did not hear
on the count that you’re always near
and i feel you still my dear.

wame muse gwafila 2017

the simple. the beautiful.

what is it about the thorns
that is beautiful if it’s not their protecting their roses

what is it about the moon
that is beautiful if it’s not it’s gentle pixels on the eye

what is it about the wind
that is beautiful if it’s not it’s ability to tickle the flower bed in song

what is it about the river
that is beautiful if it’s not it’s capability to keep going

what is it about loving
that is beautiful if it’s not being
able to break through the edge of doom

what is it about flowers
that is beautiful if it’s not their being captivatingly beautiful?

IMG_4877

wame muse gwafila 2017

lost and found.

it’s easy to feel lost. to feel there are too many destinations, too many dreams, too many thoughts and too many ways to be in this life that one simply gets lost. and you’d try the sea until you realize it waves to every cardinal and has too many ports and bays. you’d try the train but the tracks are a reminder of this heart beating somewhat wastingly inside the tracks of your ribs-you remember you’re going nowhere fast. you’d take the road and the lights from on coming cars will blind you. you get to the point where the drive has less and less meaning, less and less purpose, less and less conviction from you. you try a plane and the heights it reaches but learn soon after, the height taken will dissipate into a touch down, back into the earth-back into the empty vibrations of the wind, back here-where you don’t want to be. you’d want to cover the physical distance so you feel distant from whatever that makes your soul itch but cannot be scratched . until it clicks, you’re not running away per se you’re looking for that which the world has taken or maybe what you have had before and misplaced… or lost. you’re looking outside in the world for that which you have to be looking for inside. and then it clicks, you’re “lost”and want to go home. you want to go back, on the same distance you’ve covered, to return home-which isn’t always a building, a place or a physical thing but rather a feeling, a chance to look someone in the eyes and know there’s no place you’d rather be, a chance to touch yourself with a light pinch in amazement and humourus questioning if it is all true. all of a sudden you know you’re not lost-you’re just looking to go home to a hug that will greet you at the gate instead of at the door, that you’re looking to fit into the intimateness of yourself and cuddle yourself with happiness and love and light and all the magical things poets talk about but it’s all not there at least not in the shape or form you’d prefer. you’d try to rise above the melancholy but find…

“another sunny day/ has come and gone away/ in paris and rome/ and i want to go home.

may be surrounded by/ a million people i/ still feel all alone/ i just wanna go home/ oh, i miss you, you know/*”

wame muse gwafila 2017

*michael buble. home. it’s time. 2005. 143, reprise.

life

it’s not the road

it’s the drive-

eventhough the road is tarred

you can get off at whatever turn

but you’ll always have to drive

to whatever destination.

IMG_4970

that made me think.

“when’s your exam?”

“next week.”

“are you prepared?”

“yep. bought a pencil and a rubber.”

“so you’re planning on making mistakes?”

“ye… wait. i didn’t think it like that.”

“nice”

happy

IMG_4934you always know how to paint yourself

in such a way that i feel like myself.

you teach me where there’s contrast there isn’t always competition

but simply, difference. you teach me there is a continuation in (and after) the intermission

of everything. it looks like you-wonderful

it feels like you-beautiful.

 

 

 

 

the door is not locked.

on tv there was a show about curiosity and children. this was an emission from years ago. they place a toy train behind the children and they tell the child not to look, if they don’t they’ll be given a price.  the adult then leaves the room and the train is set in motion. in a double mirror glass the adults watch. the smartest child or children, they say, are those or is the one who looks and lies about looking. i don’t know how true this experiment is but

most doors have locks and most of these locks have keys, even if the keys have been lost or they have never been given to you. some locked doors we have keys to but it doesn’t mean they should be opened. in adulting, the same experiment wouldn’t test curiosity but rather trust and loyalty.

you know where i stand.

IMG_4878

 

 

trinities and trajectories.

the number three oddly

balances things out

consider the trinities

mind. body. soul

stay with me-

the three ball casacade

juggling around is not

you, me and life

stay with me-

the trajectory is an orbit

of completion

focus. remember

the bean balls don’t bounce

nor do they roll away

now focus-

on us, our love and our trajectories.

muse 2017

old in the body of new.

you will enter buildings and places
and see their nakedness for the first time.

you will tread into the familiar unknown.

you will sit on the same place you sat
and there will be some loneness
stroking the cords of your ribs.

there will be tears in the inner folds of your eyes.

that feeling is new
but the old isn’t exactly replaced by the new.

the old is the old.

the new is the new.

in the skeleton of these buildings
office spaces, bedrooms, libraries, car parking lots…
you’ll meet the newly old

because some ghosts we look for.

 

wame muse gwafila 2017

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