Walking on earth
with heels high just to leave a name.
Stories that fade as generations go,
Stories that were worth a late-night fire and star-gazing.
The smoke has vanished,
Going with the morning wind and taking my name with it,
Leaving behind nothing but memories
only in the minds of those that long hugged the ground.
Looking down the clouds;
I cry for my clan.
For with every generation that goes,
A letter is erased from my name.
They built a library over my bones,
But no book about me stands on their shelf,
Was I not worth remembering
Or the wind did not carry my story far enough?
I might not have fought for freedom
nor do I cry for a statue.
Maybe it is because I ran so fast,
Riches would not catch up to me till the night I slept.
For my story is as low as saving my family from war.
A baby sounds an alarm in the house
Maybe this is it
Alas, it is another girl.
This poem was published in the 14th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
More Poems:
Unfaded Portraits – Kaliu Prince (Malawi)
Echoes – Chukwuemeka V Chiamaka (Nigeria)
Ama Kweli Napendwa – Rajab Mulhat (Kenya)
Umenifika Mtengo – Sakalani Bruno (Tanzania)
Criptic.