My mind, my soul, my intuition was dead,
Woke up this morning and found a letter that read;
‘I rise, in the depth of solitude I am who I am,
In the spirit of humility I am who I am,
In the spirit of togetherness I am, Nelson Mandela.
In the face of revolution I am Dedan Kimathi,
In the wake of National Pride, I am Kenyan,
I am Bantu by Origin,
and in the face of love, I am weak.’
A letter written by me, for me!!!
Before being human, I am POET,
I strive to lead within the legion of wits,
To dissent decency and embrace love,
I cry for my people,
I serenade my fear to give birth to courage,
Fuse language and my soul in this verbal marriage,
I shine when gloomy,
I blend in when glowing…
I heed to the untold tale,
and when on stage,
I need to unfold a spell,
That cultivates in the mind,
These words are but a feeble extension of my might,
I say what I want to say and you listen,
You applaud,
I do not want your claps,
I don’t want your cheers,
I want you to listen,
I am sharing myself here,
I am telling you my painful secrets,
Letting you feel my joy…
Can you hear my silence?
Do you see my memory?
I have stripped myself bare for you,
I have swallowed my pride and I am struggling with constipation,
Hi there beautiful young lady,
Do you like what you see?
Are these words an extension of my skin?
For even when naked, I still hide an aura of mystery.
When you make love to more than one person,
Every moan bleeds poetry,
Every touch aches for a punch line,
Every ****** begs for a harder ******,
and when your eyes roll back,
and you splash your words on the walls of their minds,
Every skin begs to cuddle with your lyrical prowess,
I turn a blind eye to social injustice,
Yet I pray my people are treated well,
Do not look at me with that suspicious eye,
You don’t know who I am,
I did not bomb your brother,
I do not fight for any terrorist group,
I am not a representation of a stereotype,
You cannot blame me yet I fear just like you,
Hurt just like you,
I hide from the jaws of terror just like you,
You struggle to understand me,
I understand you,
In the face of fear, you know no human,
Your eye sees only who it suspects is friend or foe,
I understand you because I know,
On the third blow of the trumpet,
Even the son will abandon his mother…
Why judge me for the shade of my skin,
Texture of my hair????
I am who I am.
I love those who love me back,
In the dark caves of solitude,
Hidden on the platters of eternal euphoria,
I then found a loving embrace,
So I march on clinging to what I don’t understand,
Get confused by what I strive to understand,
Stand under my weak heart,
What attracts me I don’t know?
We find beauty in non-existent things,
Show me beauty and I will give you the flowers when you can still smell them.
I still rise,
For I am who I am,
A son who loves his mother,
Is driven by ambition,
Even Grisham knows,
it is past the time to ****,
onto the time to heal,
You do not need to understand this painless persona,
My words are my impractical scheme for social improvement,
I do not curse,
Because when it hurts so badly, humans’ mistake the truth for profanity …
I have hit my poetic falsetto,
I spill the last few drops of this ink…
I live you with this poem,
A temporary forever,
You do not need to understand this hopeless persona,
You don’t see the poem. It was not written for your feeble intellect.
I take center stage,
My words, my halo,
I speak,
I speak because I exist,
I said I speak because I exist,
You will always find me next to your conscience,
My words echo, my rants roar,
My whispers soothe, my cry begs for your embrace,
I sing to fallen angels,
I am who I am,
I speak because I exist,
Before I exist, I am POET
I Am Who I Am
