Page 13 - Poesiens Dronninger
P. 13

In my family they used to call me
                                    The smiling machine
                                    And indeed I was
                                    My parents called me ‘mwalimu’
                                    Which means ‘teacher’
                                    They gave me a present of an
                                    encyclopedia which was long,
                                    branded with different colours
                                    Oh! how I remember
                                    It was a gift to give me motivation
                                    to achieve my goals, ambitions and visions.
                                    How they loved me so; amongst
                                    the seven children.

                                    Pregnant I got and every support
                   Vivian Nyaboke   I got from them stopped
           MY  RO YAL  CHILD        Going back to school for my college studies
                                    became a nightmare.
                                    All the dreams
                                    All the beautiful ambitions
                                    All the visions became like a
                                    passing smoke across the skies
                                    I couldn’t reach nor touch.
                                    My family’s trust
                                    just got lost.

                                    I gave birth
                                    And became invisible
                                    My baby and I were no longer
                                    Considered persons in the house
                                    I soaked wet in my own tears
                                    Not any other tears but tears
                                    of bitterness.
                                    I can just call it ‘the sweet bitter tears’.
                                    Everyday and night in the place
                                    I called home, had now turned
                                    like a morgue. A morgue because
                                    of the coldness of every soul in
                                    that home.
                                    Their hearts were no longer warm but
                                    had turned totally cold.

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