…and there is a lot of fight in my spirit.
Some times I am a broken shackle
But most times I am a loud thunder on what seemed like polite rains.
The problem is,
I have always been afraid of large crowds
And stranger offering to share their snack with me.
This one is a long trip
In a big bus
With generous people who happened to be acquainted
Thus all my three fears combined.
The lady right next to me hands me her cashew nuts
And you can’t say no ,
In African custom it is rude and disrespectful,
So I pick three ,
And chew one at a time for all eternity.
I am uncomfortable
They are all talking about things they can’t control ,
Things they had control over but didn’t control
Things they can control but prefer to indulge in a conversation about them instead.
They talk about politics.
I have no earphones,
And even if I did
I have no music in my memory so I stare,
I stare at the trees
I stare at gravity
The wind is to strong and the bus driver too weak,
Exchange of control .
As the vehicle spins down a steep
This man-made tool now rules.
Now it’s more peaceful
Because the abnoxious chatters
The annoying Symphony has been replaced with more genuine melody ,
A cry for help .
I ,am silently listening not just to the spin
But the screams too
And you should know ,
I am not afraid of death.
The writer is happy so her work must be disturbing . There is a lot of passion in stubborn- wa.ngeci