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Letters for my Mother

"Letters for my Mother" is a collection of thoughts, emotions, and socioeconomic factors that have hindered my mother and me until her passing in 2007. At that time, I was away from home, moving from place to place, bunking on my sister's house one year and moving on to the other like clockwork. It was traumatic for me since I grew up knowing that I come from a large family of twelve and now living with different people all together or sometimes coming home to find my big sister hasn't arrived from work, so it was books and TV to keep me company. Most of the time, they were trying times as distance kept my two brothers and me from bonding fully. I am glad that I found an outlet for my part where everything seems to be going and coming. What was constantly being right was I thank them fully for taking me to high school, where I found my calling. Art, for me, was a constant where everything is a variable. I never knew I was artistically gifted in all areas of art. I found myself doing drama and musical at form one barely one month into the school. Next year, I found myself in Environment and Science Congress. I had hoped initially that I would blossom to be a scientist. There was this character, Dexter's lab, where he was a boy genius living in a suburban home and having a secret lab in the basement; it was an eye-opening factor for me, and I had to exercise to the fullest. Form three and four were full of music and festival of arts; that was where I grew my art to visual, and poetry came to me as a second language. You probably have figured out that school for me was not for learning, rather for making friends and trying my foot in various forms of art. After high school and pre-youth and college year (I studied computer graphic design for three months, and I dropped out for one reason I will share in my latter works), I found my calling in theatre and performing arts. I loved being on stage, acting, and bringing characters to life with costumes and lights. Telling narratives to the audience and watching them move with awe and splendor. Some hated me from curtain raise to curtain call, booing me for being the antagonist, and applauded wildly when I played the hero. After a while, I felt sick and stagnant for doing the same thing and staging in the same theatre. I saw different cultures and people around Kenya, my country, and settled for drawing and writing poetry and books. To be honest, I was a bit skeptical about my works and would write and draw sketches, and if they don't work out, I would tear them out and flush them. I know I was my worst critic, but I had my first break at 2017 under Storymoja and mentorship of Muthoni Garland, Samira Mathews, and Monity Odera. I published a children's book, "Monsters Who Disobeyed," translated to Swahili, also known as "Malipo ya Ukaidi." It was a milestone for me. I really appreciate my efforts, and three years later, I compiled this book for myself and also the whole world as a reminder that you can be yourself and be the greatest version; you just have to believe. My shortcoming is that my mother, may her soul rest in peace, would be proud of the young man I have become, being that I have never had the chance to show her how talented I am. To all the dreamers and the creatives out there, I would like to give a nugget of wisdom to all that the first step is the hardest, but you will get there eventually. After a while, I must say I am well-versed with various art forms, and I speak the language fluently. As a reader and a fan of my work, I must acknowledge that it is a pleasure giving you access to my world, and I hope to share a room in your library as a favorite.

ODUOR_ISADIAH · สมัยใหม่
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51 Chs

ANTS

Come, little ones, step forward, follow your dreams,

Near the end, abolish all cowardly schemes.

He sold our hive to the highest bidder's call,

To unknown destinations, we did fall.

Our fathers, retired, faces scarred and bitter,

One among us long gone, diving deep in water.

I cannot demonstrate, Kaa kwa laini kurutu!

Come, little one, let sober thoughts imbue.

Turn wheels of revolution, be your guide,

In education's vehicle, take your pride.

Avoid forbidden Babylon's deadly drink,

It slowly kills, a bitter-sweet you think.

Not from our ancestors' wise concoctions,

But from it, we destroy our tomorrows' options.

Today, not tomorrow, we must stand tall,

Entering the grave, before our parents all.

Unity is strength, let's make that our creed,

No worries, no troubles, that's what we need.

Make your lines strong, as passages they'll use,

I'm tired of your narratives; don't refuse.

Give me my pen, delay makes my heart heavy,

Let my flower bloom, give me the baton, be ready.

I pass it to the next, sweet inheritance's call,

Unite in the trinity, defeat the ego's thrall.

Our hive will flourish, sprout freedom's wings so wide,

Transform ourselves, new kings and queens side by side.

Build new young kingdoms, strong soldiers, maidens, kin,

To hold the next baton, let new stories begin.

Wearing black suits, they head to graduation's stage,

Congratulate the discipline, praises in this age.

Banish discerners and the uncouth away,

Face the kingdom, build hills, fortresses in array.

Shower the young with sweet victory's embrace,

Nourish them in the combs, in this sacred space.