Tuesday, 18 December 2012

The Gravity of my beating heart..(my story)

I always asked myself
Why he did this
And why she said that

And why they felt the way they did
Because mine was a beating heart

It was quite hard
Being compared to a thousand others
So I spoke to defend and define my own
But because this displayed disrespect
They cut off my tongue
To impair the speech that was my weapon

It really was unpleasant
To feel the skins of dead hearts
Rub against mine trying hard to be revived
By raiding my innocence
And all the while blaming me
And accusing me for befriending beauty

Oh gosh
If I knew beauty was a bud of sorrow
I would have told tomorrow not to come
That way I would not have been born
But alas I have known her before my first breathe
For even then I was called a curse
And for this I was to be slain, once again
Because mine was a beating heart

It hurt so bad
When after I let him in
And him, and him,
He tried to peel off my face
And put the one he preferred instead
And when I let him out
And him, and him
He refused to loosen his claws and let go
Of the shredded gory that was my less than beating heart

It was so painful
When the selfless deeds for a best friend
And her friends and my friends
Earned me the label of people pleaser
The highest honour for me,
As making others’ lives easier is Godly
A dire shame for them
As they perceived it as desperacy

In the end I wondered how
She could repeat history
Grab the knife everybody used on me
And stab my back so far in
It went through to my beating heart
And punctured the golden bag of trust I kept
Just for her

But despite all this I have learnt
To love, to live, to forgive and forget
Because before all he did, all she said and all they felt
They had to respond to the gravity of my beating heart
And love me first….

By Chitalu Kaibele (Zambia )

Photo credits: www.facebook.com/afrofuture

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