When she looked at me,
Her eyes pierced my heart
With vengeless anger,
Longing to be set free;
A familiar fire
That burned and would not depart ….
When she yelled at me,
My moyo was torn kwa sorrow
For her, as if longing to be
In her place, to prevent today
What could not be saved tomorrow;
Her price I would gladly pay…
When her hand struck me,
I was stunned
By the gentleness of her caress
On me—the enemy she had shunned;
She did not her hurt repress,
Yet did not tear down my dignity….
When she cried to me,
Her tears were as showers
Pelting my soul with grief unspoken;
Like burning flowers,
Grieving with...
continue reading...
