HARMOLISA:Sketches behind the helmet.

Winter is coming,so they said to the King of the North,and with winter was a gruesome battle up the wall with the walking dead.

A very familiar tale to lovers of Game of Thrones.One that saw John Snow the king of the North make unlikely alliances.Nothing could deter him from seeing the safety of his men…those castigated from the seven kingdoms abroad and those considered as wildlings.All meant something,all had breath in them and had to survive through the harsh elements ensuing.Above all else,all had to see the light of day with the absolute extermination of the army of the dead,army of the dead huh? Quite some myth you might think….

Back to Africa and here in Nairobi approached a similar winter,one borne from similar culminations.A winter of the heart,as it ached in two souls all drawn from different roots.

These two hearts come in union from a route shared in loss,loss,never a good tale to relate though in such moments we are left of no choice but to pour it down.Be it a tsunami or harsh downpour,either way it had to cascade down the cheeks in torrents of pain swept in tears.

They both found solace behind masks,behind plastic and metallic helmets guarded by a rearing glass windscreen.Behind those helmets they hid all their pain and relieved their tales in silence of tears.As the wind brisked through their hair in swoosh so their hurts ebbed into the nethers….

Speak of your passtime and fun activity being the only solace life could offer when all else brisks into oblivion.When I say all else I literally mean everything once held with pride and an attachment to heart.

”I dread the month of October”,she whispered through restrained melancholy.”Why?I mean,why would one dread a month that came with a double portion of grace?”,I asked in retrospect.Looking me in the eyes as if wistfully she said that these nights are cold and sleepless,insomnia becomes her friend and they share a pillow of sadness and unanswered questions that go endlessly unattended.

In short she hadn’t told me a thing,at least not in my opinion as all I heard were words explaining insomnia yet no true reason behind them.She said someday she would share but that in the present it was a breast cancer awareness month for her.

Surely winter was here right deep within her heart and with the cold and an ache of cancer upon her then these would be gruesome nights for sure.Imagine the long nights of biting cold and aching bones with unnerving marrows slowly eating the life and breath out of her flesh,I wouldn’t stand such not even with my inner pieces of wrecking strength.

On my end however,the cold drizzles deep into the night arose not more than animal if not primal instincts within .Call it living the Nairobi half life huh>where both beauty and sorrow snuggled for comfort next to the other.

She looks away and goes on as I am lost in my own misunderstanding of the whole insomnia bit.This is a month she had dedicated to her gone mum,she had succumbed to the cold nights drilled into by breast cancer and in turn left my rider buddy lost in the highs of the helmet shield.Harmony is her name,a friend to Lisa who in the same month though 2 years down loses her lover.A case of here today and gone tomorrow,others say gone too soon and yet a term meant to calm the soul is we loved you but God loved you more.

Despite all the acronyms used as I said earlier in when tears don’t suffice linked as WHEN TEARS DON’T SUFFICE,no amount of words can ever take away the pain and hurt of losing a close loved one,let alone understand the depth or hurt involved.So you see,my two rider buddies,Lisa and Harmony take to insomnia and a tirade of unanswered questions late into the October rainy nights whilst the monkeys are busy mating high in the canopy rainforests.

To pass the day however,the helmet and superbike became the go to solace,peace and utmost warmth enclosed with a ride high into the horizon.

Back to Harmony,her tale belies a tirade of betrayals and uncharted escapes.With the passing of mum,she is tasked with the enhancement of her business along her passion of riding into stardome and subsequently her desired future.Call it the desire that led Eve right to the serpent in the garden of Eden.Wait a moment,I thought most ladies are scared of reptiles let alone serpents,but we are told this one was more subtle than all the other animals in the garden huh?Must have met Eve dressed in the latest designer leaves and draping breathtaking thistle sandals huh?But Eve’s eyes and man had not yet been opened at the moment so I doubt if even sexiness could sway the heart into lust let alone visual attractive perception at the point huh?Gets quite confusing without a deeper eye trust you me…..

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She asked for assistance from the closest person she knew and thought would help but….did you know that when you are at your lowest is when even the most treasured of acquaintances disappear from you?What happens if these same persons were the same persons who had sired you into existence in the first instance?I mean,when they move on so quickly after such a loss where does this leave you?when all you want is someone to lean on and encourage you,assure you that all that has happened is just a shift in the winds and that soon all things are gonna be normal?What happens when they who shared the same bed with your demised get warmth in another without your knowledge?

So now you get why October nights become colder even with the unending drizzles?No,the ache in the marrows and cancering breast is long gone but the ache now bores deeper into her daughter’s soul and drains all her energies deep into the morning.The ghosts of facing another day without their mum’s presence becomes almost unfathomable as all doors seem to be shutting right before her at the moment,to add salt to the deepening wound is that dear sweet papa won’t support her passion and neither will he jump jolt mama’s pre-existing business.

Am I being too raw?what is the sweetness of whiskey if you lace it with lime and soda?It loses its naked bare taste and feel,get my drift?

#

Here comes the weekend and with all prevailing culminations lil woman needs a break and a move on with life.She wants to break away and walk from the troubles in her life.An evening to warm out the freezing night with friends and acquaintances alike ends up with the rest gone and a cozy camp-like setting left behind in her shelling crib.See where primordial instincts set in?With her is this old friend who we can call Bryo from Kenyan terms,or would Kevoh suffice?No,he is Bryo,they come with quite a reputation and this my dear treader lived upto expectation,not wasting kisses or caresses,not when all gates scream vulnerability and an ache to be calmed.

Not calmed from lusts but from deeper aches and hurts,wounds unattended and grievings unhealed.You know how much carelessness a grieving heart just like a drunk head can lead to?MMMmmmmh I don’t know whether to call it carelessness as what comes along is a night of sensuality but then the consequences that soon follow make me bite back into my tongue with caution.

Yes,the passion ended as soon as the night grew off the dusk into dawn and another day of reality played home.She soon realised Bryo wasn’t her’s in the first place and had just lived up to the bad-boy reputation of all Bryo’s.Was she left high and dry?

No,she was left to ride as usual into the horizon as the speed bike became her ride or die and her helmet the beauty of comfort as her tears dripped into the cussions of the same,dried the wind to create more,a rainbow would always often form in union with the sunsets in her horizon reminding her that she was normal and that this ark was not sinking yet.So she lived to face another day.

Another day just as Lisa has become accustomed to since the bike rides she too took on into the horizons at some point grew tiring,reason drawn from the skylines for some strange reason stop changing at this point and hence the once beautiful sunsets lose their lustre and allure.How this happens is deep since she used to share these same sunsets and rides with the same guy who decided that breathing oxygen was no longer cool and dancing with the angels in paradise as he watches over the love of his life was a better overhead view.

The pain runs deep each day but soon wane off as these two find ways to bandage up their wounds without help.Truth is that the world could not heal these wounds yet the universe in conspiracy could as in spaces left littles sketches pile up in beauty and newfound trends.

Harmony holds dear the cold Octobers and lives to narrate her tale to her helmet while Lisa realises that the rides into the sky are beautiful but still even unknown new acquaintances can still make her soul laugh without even getting to caress her chubby ruddy cheeks.

PePa.

BLISSFUL NOVEMBER:sketches into the month.

November is beautiful let us be honest.Latest gossip I heard this morning or rather saw was that  the day’s president was wondering why the citizens and netizens included were broke?I smiled rather nonchalantly to this retort as I too have not the whim nor the understanding of this as I believe some have the answer better placed in this than mere citizens,huh?

 

And yet you wonder why to me November is beautiful,right?If you have been my ardent PePa treader then by now you will have the full-blown understanding that as the ancient Roman senators I could almost find my position among the populare of Julius Gaius Caesar,ruling in a popular belief of power to the people first and rule to the gentes,that is,the ruling class.

 

This however my dear treader is no History class 101 but rather a warm recap of the unfolding cold November.Quite an astounding way to welcome the beautiful break of December in my opinion.This still,save for the unending traffic slugs despite the massive  auto-recovery by mortgage and money lending institutions so I too with open un-condescending eyes will ask the same quiz as the day’s ruler,”Why are Kenyans broke?”

 

Will someone answer this rhetoric please?

 

So yeah,I will ease my concerns and drift from thoughts of massive money laundering and even un-gazetted projects that still have to be funded under ghost contractors.No,I will not mention the party politics that eat up massive funding,no,please don’t draw my attention to the billions in unproductive or cat projects that don’t put the grass root citizens into perspective but yet still sip up all if not all national resources.What about tenders in where the appropriation, issuance of certification and moderation down to the supply of the same all runs within the same family tree.Quite an offset for maintaining the family empire huh?Family empire in relation to government(populare) funds?I get a migraine at this point as even fingers itch to give up on tread.##

 

I even hear of office deputies wanting to gain full power and autonomy to higher and fire deviant employees from office when the main or ruling governor us out on errands,well,a sure thirst for power even these November rains can’t quench…..See why I try hard not to hear all these obscenities?

 

But now to illustrate the beauty of November is that despite all these concerns and the constant evictions within the city,not because of refusal to pay up but rather due to an accrued inability to afford same,here we find ourselves ”still going strong” as most football slogans would have it put.

 

I hence find my mind drift from the day’s sorrows and up into the heavens,into the beauty and calm of nature,into my rather blissful resignation as answers are missed in a wake of depressions and suicidal tendencies.NO,I will not succumb to the pressure and distaste already pressed upon my undesiring tongue let alone paths forced under my slacking feet to distress.

 

Is ignorance really bliss when a helpless,foot bandaged and unarmed university lass gets battered unarmed by up to  5 administrative police ‘men’ armed with shields,clubs and  teargas canisters for being caught up in a riot rampage?

 

I will find all the peace the world can not afford to offer within,within the deeper self that will always almost automatically create a shield for itself against all harm,within me here today,and I will look up with gratitude and say that despite everything,I am blessed to be here and to take into account all these impossibities that have yet to break their barriers right before my eyes…….

 

Well,still November is beautiful and with God’s grace on our side we shall surely overcome,just let it not expire upon your head buddy,nooo please don’t.

 

Take in every drip of rain along the panes and windscreens,enjoy every grip of cold biting into the bones as it makes caress upon flaked skin and don’t lose sight of the grey cloudy assurance upon the skies.All these plot to make November memorable…..sink into it.

 

PePa.

MY FRIDAY RUMBLINGS:Sketches into the night.

It is a beautiful Friday evening,the 8th of a glorious November.From my view hangs a split sky of unequal evenness of mismatched clouds amongst a splay of stars.Mismatched in sense is meant to be a beautiful display in this array.My surrounding and in most cases feel of weather always plays supreme in my mind so never mind this unnecessary description.

 

An unsure day precedes this evening to me as both cold and heat both strove in tandem only for an even temperature of 25 degrees in the celcius to come to par,quite solemn in my view.Peril to this is that the maroon vogue jacket had to remain tucked in my backseat,a position she has almost become accustomed to.If only she had actual feelings to notice its neglect.Thank the heavens she comes in handy this almost cold evening.Do you at this point note that November has sure gained in degrees of heat by now,to mention this part of the tropics though as the Northern hemisphere seems to be beating down on the lows of winter.

 

Speaking of surroundings,the buzz of music in the back,no,today the boom is right in my front.For a moment am perplexed at how I came to agree to this arrangement as it is since I love music playing in the background and not right ahead of me,sick,huh?No,almost romantic if you ask me,just don’t ask me what is romantic about it cuz even romance is totally twisted in variation lately.

 

Long gruesome and almost nerve cracking week this has been if you ask me.Yes totally nerve wrecking it could have been but with it came a promise of chocolates from the heavens as I will have to  share in an oncoming post.Let us hold the reins tight to this for a moment.Don’t let your hinges burst their seams from the wreck thereof….

 

I don’t want to miss this moment however as has been my almost all time slogan this far.Don’t miss a moment,not in space or time,not in passing or lingering,just make sure you savour every drop and juice of it that drops dew or say honey upon your head.This my dear Pepa treader is the ultimate bliss.

 

See for example this Spanish ballard playing right now with words I would count no claim to understanding in the least.Truth not be missed however is that every unknown word in sync with the mariachi beats is welcome soothe to my varicosed nerves at the moment.A masseuse would add to the gist but no,they would interrupt the flow I believe.

 

Ever wondered how we enjoy music whose lyrics we have no absolute clue to meaning or purpose?I call it blissful ignorance as the moment you understand its meaning you stop loving it,hahahahah ain’t that sick or what?As for this moment however,as long as these folks sway gayly upon the rhumba floor then I think all is well,huh?If only life was taken in such unbothered strides and sway of ignorance then we would all die beautiful foolish deaths,right?

 

So all am doing at the moment is staring into my starry clustered sky amidst the  soothing ebb of the Spanish ballad that has so far thrown in a swing of  salsa….Oh how I wish my body was that gay upon the dance floor…to enjoy the ease of flow I see portrayed herewith.However,no one ever got hurt from being an onlooker,right?A position I have so far become accustomed to.Speak of finding all manner of excuses for having two left feet,hahahah.I wish they actually called me as a private observer during their election riggs as I would never miss a thing.

 

In walk these young lasses all confident and fit in their composure…A waiting space of two lounge seats for four welcomes them and soon their table gets a fill of cocktails.The excited chatter they came in with soon ebbs off into taps upon their smart phones,smart phones smart phones,to who shall we shift the blame of this distraction?The inventor of the same or the persons who use and get lost in them to the detriment of  beautiful conversations?I mean it is Friday for crying out softly,you guys have had an almost impossible week looking for paper bills(I thought it was at the Central bank but we all out here looking for it),and here you meet up only to get lost behind your smart phone gadgets?Well,this is more of a question of is money really bad or are human beings the perpetrators of its beauty?

 

My arena is massive and ruminations expansive,I could almost go on all night about what delights and what disgusts me this evening but even a night out never really played to my liking.Hence then,I am tempted to take a side step to this rumbles but soon get drawn in by the traffic building up in the streets beneath.Am not sure if calling the backroads in this side of town streets is ok or not but hey,am I  a wise man?no!Linguist?Far be it from me for if it were so then that French class back in High School wouldn’t have been such a jig to warrant my being kicked out of class,ouch,blings a lump to my throat.A consolation to that episode however was that my tongue couldn’t quite roll with ease like most of my counterparts,thinking about it now,these guys would have put in an effort in teaching me some more.Maybe still we all learn at different paces but,but the education system,I mean our local education system,does it even put our desires into consideration?

 

I know I drift a lot but please allow my Friday rumblings enjoy there tread for that is the whole essence of rumbling,right?I was told,go to school,study hard,beat the other kids in class and someday you will get a good job…so vast,so ambiguous and unconventional.I mean,who told this system that I even wanted to be employed in the first place,and even if I did want to who told them that I,independent thinker as I am would in the least survive to payday in that same establishment.Calls for humility maybe,but…still the word but crawls up uglily you may say ….I think the system missed a step,maybe two or even several in its acquisition and embrace of all uncharted though borrowed education system.

 

In this quest and thirst for borrowed education it forgot its own citizens’ needs and aspirations.Threw caution to prevailing predicaments and the need to solve these same predicaments in an African if not Kenyan way and in process we mostly found ourselves in a rat race quest for good education and hence employment and subsequent retirement.Employment of which is not guaranteed in the first place and retirement at an age that warrants no working,a strain to work till the last year to cling onto retirement benefits……what a detriment of human strength….So while we cling and almost clammer for these job opportunities who is on the other end creating them?Is it again a picture of money being an evil or the persons behind the money being the perpetrators of its detriment?

 

Ooops!Did I just throw shade at a failing system or is it just a part of my unending rumblings?My night is growing old as it is and yet I need a few more hours to see this evening fully utilised so to edge off my rumblings I will let PePa tread your eyes and hearts as I sink into the night with gratitude.

 

Till later,adios from PePa.

 

PePa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOD IS GOD ALONE: sketches of trust.

When all seemed futile

When darkness was all around me

I looked and lo,the waves crushed fast towards me

In a moment I closed mine eyes in fear

And then looked fear in the eyes

Told him that I had one greater than he

One who could crush my storm

I looked up unto you as fear he recoiled

You came to my aid from the swelling ocean

Yes it beat all around me with threats

But your righteousness it could not win against

Like a puddle of water you swept it all away

For from the heath ashes you lifted me up

Like a broken dove with wings of silver and gold

My eyes they welled in tears

For all shame you turned into your glory

All fear you turned into your praise

All hurt you turned into rejoicing

As tears now well in nothing but gladness

The once rage and surge of ocean is turned into a well of gladness

A hope so little turned into a precious treasure

The treasure of your love and peace overflowing

So ancient words now bold into truth

That in the world you will face many troubles

But fear not for I have overcome the world

So my heart swells beyond my chest

As words lose form and your praise takes shape

In tears of joy and unspoken words of praise

Lost in the sea of gladness and well of beauty

A beauty borne from your words of faithfulness.

What then shall I say O God?

A mortal me you love with passion?

It only makes you true and faithful beyond words expression

So let my words hold no more

Let your praises resound the more.

For you are God alone and always will be

Your name be praised and lifted as it be.

PePa.

YOU OR I: Sketches of self destruction.

See I,see you

Treading different paths

Yet all same course

Drawn so apart from one

Yet claiming same vision

See I see you

Lost in worlds born without

See you see me

Lost in own self and stranger to life’s true purpose

You mock,I mock

I mock,you block

You soak,I break

I break,you quake

See I,see you,

See you,see I

All lost in own-selves

Wish we all but closed eyes

To self and will of sole purpose

And looked well beyond reason

And so find season beyond self

And grow as you and I,together in one accord

And not lost out of course,forged in tales of you or I

But draped in You and I,ribboned as one accord.

See you,see I,and now we reigns supreme.

PePa.

Welcome to November:SKETCHES OF REFLECTION.

The rains ease off and the night pour upon the baked clay rooftop thuds more softly into trickles.

 

Such has been the signature occurrence this month past.This to be honest has been a good omen for most of us pluviophile.The love of rain through the night is more comfort than distraction I must say.Can’t help this sadistic smile that creases my mouth’s edges as I pity the single persons freezing through the month of September and October. Hahaah,not that my position has been by any course elevated beyond such perils but hey,not all of us can cosy up in dire freezement….and what better eases sorrow than to laugh at it in the face?

 

Now before gut goes to complaint let me admit that October came with lots of downs but to gush it up were a number of ups,things or bits which in most cases evade thought of mind as tongue sets motion to a flow of demerits,demerits castigated in a motion to mar any glint of light set towards gratitude.

 

Speaking of glint I am reminded of a piece I did earlier this year titled ”The Glint” as the sketches set pace.It has been quite a breath I must admit since I had a piece of that deep and sincere glint as heralded by quite unfortunate events which if asked would have meant the ultimate millstone upon my neck and a subsequent drag down the sea’s bottom.

 

Here I am however despite the pieces and briefs that more than almost snatched my glint away,leaving in its wake a broken frame of skeletons,if asked that is,because from the same ashes and valley of death I was so condemned to I found strength baked upon the wings of a broken dove.Talk of  God shining into the darkness and we rising from the ashes.Truth be told,if it wasn’t for  God’s grace then I would be a piece of toast as we speak…

 

So gliding back to present and letting the painful past be toasted instead of me,I am drawn to a moment of pure gratitude and utmost awe as I reflect upon all the good and blissful moments.Don’t mistake bliss in this statement to point towards romance and affection though were it to point to God’s grace then I easily find myself obliging to same school of thought.Bliss hence stands as the tower of beauty and growth within the shell that was once left for oblivion,rediscovered hence and reestablished into a monument of purpose and resilience.

 

Resilience,I love the sound of that,almost tastes so delicious upon my senses as it embodies what time has trained out of me.

 

Did you ever notice that in most cases,the very drain that set out to crush us almost always turns out to be the same foundations of our establishments if and when we choose to use them to our advantage rather than detriment?Always lies in a choice huh?

 

Recall how we all start the year on a high pitch with all expectations and resolutions put in place,till a certain wind of defeat comes along and right then we start seeing the goalposts shifted?how and why I really have never gotten wind of but yes they shift completely to always an unknown tomorrow,the tomorrow filled with endless possibilities,the tomorrow we was never assured in the first place.Well,that was not me,I never do any resolutions whatsoever but this time round I found me-self faced with a cloudy day with possibility of rain,not the El-nino kind but like Charley at the chocolate factory seeing a possibility of endless gnawing of chocolate,I mean all types and even kinds of chocolates….mine though was one possibility and in the same wake I found me putting a target and expectation,little did I know it was more like a bounty to my neck.

 

Almost laughable I must admit.

 

So yes,when things turned against all I had premeditated and depression became my bed-mate and all-time companion,I almost but missed the truth and scope of day that was meant to mold my very existence to a moment that was in actual passing.Did I however learn a new trick in the process?Truth be told,not at all…did I get a helping hand out of it?Still non that I would recall….ooh well,honestly non.

 

So how did the broken shell of a person so gloriously rise from within the miry clay or better still broken dove from among the ashes?Resilience is the answer,aided by grace from non other than God himself.At that very moment when I felt all was lost is the very moment God gave me strength to go through it all.Little did I know that this moment in derision was the precursor of growth and the strength I needed to face all days of similitude…..

 

As I look upon the days that grew out of the same,I am in a position where neither regret defines the missed moments nor pain eclipse the person I am this moment.Instead,I see a start that built on to every challenging month that came after right to this moment.Not to lie that any has gotten easier but that through the moments I have learnt to trust the process and hence become a better person than the one I was the day previous.

 

Hence the rain softly puddles against my rooftop with trails off my window as I reminisce the month that has been and the grace that starts yet another,am but left breathless in gratitude.I recall of acquaintances who grew into friends even from an arm’s length as over time I have learnt a language that needs no words nor interpretation,the language of the soul of the world,it has gone deeper and healed even wounds a doctor could not stitch together.This same language has seen cold nights like this one past fill with warmth beyond the heat of a fireplace…..A brisk through which media stopped being social and love embered beyond the flames of withdrawal,the skies became a dancing floor of joy and the horizon its bed of rest after a long night’s dance…..

 

As my words get hooked to the roof of my mouth am hence inclined not by desire but rather immediate circumstance to let go of PePa and wish you nothing short of an amazing month of November.Keep the faith,keep the trust,maintain the love and push till the world gives.

 

God bless you with an amazing month of His will.

 

PePa.

WHEN TEARS DON’T SUFFICE:Sketches of loss.

It is a beautiful day to write or so I may think.Maybe not but in my state of mind I don’t know what better to do with grey to dark hanging clouds,no sun in the heavens or a flicker in the horizons and drizzles to match.A pluviophile would help in such wet and muddy weather I suppose.

Maybe it is my love for nature and more so for wet and rainy seasons that most often gets the best of me.

For today though,I don’t know whether to call it beautiful or not,yes,to write it is such an exclusive one for thus but what delights one soul could be the variant death of another;call it a less glamorous or amorous one for yet a third.What to write about however becomes a nudging prick though as the little droplets pound ever softy on the front of my shop,subsequently building into puddles and a flow of sorts.

I envy how reporters do it,like go all out in search of a story.As for me however,this theory of ‘It is written,’as Maktub would have it allows me no such delights.I hence have to wait till the story comes to me and in all its rawness I can hence relay.

In retrospect however, I am lost back to the preacher’s words,oh wisdom could sure be the death of me or us,maybe or maybe not,huh?I don’t know if it is true that it is better the day of a man’s death or that of his birth,and yet better for those who are dead rather than those living.

On an open scale I would say these were more words of consolation than those of reality,a skit to which throws me off to what reality and perception really are,or if yet still both hold water to their own scopes in consequence?He,however adds that the reason to this conclusion under the sun is because the living know that their fate is the grave while the dead have already accepted their fate as it is.#

Speaking of fate,it is also written that the worst evil a man would ever bring upon himself is to fight and try thwart his fate,and yet still the greatest joy and winner of all is when a man knows and realises his fate and in so doing totally embraces it.

None of these are my words however so hold with me PePa treader as we try to decipher all these unrelenting truths and hence find the path to whose purpose we seek.

Back to whether this really is a beautiful day or not,whether it is only in my eyes or a mere perception,we go back to this chat I sent last night wondering whether she had stopped missing me or not.This went unanswered and having been absorbed in netflix and chill in union with an unprecedented worldwide blackout,’okay at least it was world wide in my little town strayed outside the skirts of the city’,I miss the wind or lurk of the response which on checking came in this cold morning.

Not an expected answer however as my darling friend Lisa is in a mourning mood;always kicks me off balance how today we are all okay and the next moment all is thrown to the wind,you could call it mood swings or female hormones but no,not today>>> today as it is is not the same as everyday,it is not an ordinary day.The cut is real and digs deep to an overflowing bleed not quite characterised by tears or screams but a weird if not serene sense of withdrawal.

What do you do when just the other day you were laughing and joyfully screaming obscenities at each other and yet today,today they are no more,they are a story left in lines of narration,a whisper of who they really was?I have lost a close loved one and teared in torrents when reading out their eulogy yes,it never hit me they were that close till I read out their name and at that very moment yes,it all dawned on my once strong and almost stable heart that they were gone;yes they couldn’t have been the best of persons as per my moral standing or judgement but no they din’t deserve to die,did they?

Deserve to die huh?Brings to mind lots of questions most often left unanswered or better still with half baked answers.So the preacher’s words play back again and I retort as contemplation takes form,yes,’there is a time for everything’,so he said,what a consolation to a human grieving heart or mind!And still when we grieve,it is our minds,pumping heart or unseen heart that aches.So the time to die is hence here and me who has lost a loved one before can’t honestly say I know how it feels like to lose a loved one,let alone one you are totally drawn into and are in love with,in love with to the point of planning a future together.

True,I know it really pains,even cuts to depths unstitchable,points that even the mention of God’s comfort to such an ailing soul sounds more like a blubber into the ears of a deaf man telling them you love em.Yes love em,returns me to the point of God in perspective who hence can only come into play at this point,not in words though strong but in truth of action,presence and utmost reliability and availability.A sure relay of faith with actions.

The question still lingers in the air as to who deserves to die and who doesn’t.And do we actually die or our souls just part with the body?A question most scientists still have no clue to yet forms the very hope of our existence,that this life has more to offer than just to live and die!

I relay her pain in writing however as she plays back to how he came over a week past,they made breakfast(I bet a case of breakfast in bed,huh?),played and laughed around,not to forget the toothbrush joke!But on this 18th day he is no more,the sickness that seemed to go away got the better of his ailing body and surely body and soul had to part ways,one to the durst and the other hopefully into paradise.So off into higher realms his soul rode,and she was left to ride into the horizon to rediscover her purpose for now she sees,her purpose may not have been entwined with his,at least not in this next part of her breathing life,hopefully through fate in the next.

Looking back she is so done,in her words of desperation as even tears,the only solace she could cling onto is nowhere in the horizon.In its place is a subjection to wonder and laughter,a laughter that should help abate the pain.To what end I have no idea but my plea to Lisa is to cry it out.In my mind I suppose the pain of the tears themselves will burn out the overwhelming pain of separation,untimely separation if you ask her…

I try to feel her pain but in truth I can’t manage because no two pains are equal even though on the same level,the magnitude of each is based on a number of factors that even research couldn’t complete in an entire lifespan,lifespan huh?Lifespan,so short or better still so unpredictable,it is here today and gone tomorrow,yet the pain lives on..Maybe if we looked at it as fate then it would make more sense,or better still if it came with a manual and timetable of how and when it would end then that would ease it all away,huh?

No amount of words can explain or express the pain she feels today,even the drizzles that sooth my mind to sleep at night face a tougher task in calming her sorrow,sorrow that as they say time will heal.So yes,maybe for now the preacher could win this day as he brings us with his words to a time of mourning,yes maybe for a moment until mirth sets in and we will forget that we hurt and pained prior.

My only consolation at this moment is that this same God whom we could be so angry at for the moment because of watching as Kari’s breath left him without holding it on,has placed eternity in our hearts that we may never find out what he has in store for us but still hope for it.

At this point the preacher parts Lisa on the shoulder telling her of all vanities under the sun and that in conclusion,it is better for a man to eat and drink and be merry and to make his soul enjoy good in his labour.Hence to rejoice as a young man in one’s youth and in all these things know that God will bring us all to judgement,therefore remove sorrow from your heart,and put away evil from your flesh,for childhood and youth all pass away…hence fear God and keep His commandments;for this is the whole duty of man.

What can PePa add to such deep wisdom,if even the wisest and richest of men acknowledges this,what can I,mere man wrap to this?

whether it is an I love you Kari to an RIP Kari,we give thanks in all and rejoice in every moment.Live today.

PePa.

THE TICK THAT HOLDS ON:Sketches of depression revisited.

Seven minutes to midnight.I always loved seven.To others ten was almost the ish.A sure beginner of countdowns.Yes a pure blissful countdown would make much meaning from ten.But only to the common eye.

Yes deep calls unto deep so was it written and that which is written depicts the spoken.A call to which ancient origin would mean that same has to pass into completion rather than obliteration.

Never mind my mingle and swoosh of words.All leads to same end depicted from start.

So yes seven I gain and completion is eminent.Don’t lose sight on common perspective,rather,stay rooted in deeper depths.

The head pangs surely not from hunger but a grind of day so rough and gruesome.The body almost gives way as heart pours a wariness unsalvageable by mere tissue therapy.More like a disease of the mind.

The second hand ticks and so drags the minute,seven boils to six and hits a grace of five.Heart wanes in process as spirit roots for strength in drag of time.

If you aren’t keen then a call of desperation could mean the rescue of you.Rope to the neck in moments as such sounds calmly,even mildly acceptable as body and mind tells body it has no more breath left in it.That a wrap around the neck in a sling of death would be the saviour of life…..

But just as body and mind gives in to depression,seven counts down to midnight and the strike of zero is a sure show of hope.Hope in yet another day.A sign that all the stumbling blocks of the previous day have come crumbled.And here in its space form takes root into the beginning of hope.

Hope,embedded in a faith almost crushed to its knees but yet stands saved by a hand that never pulled back.The hand of the Almighty.

So yes,just as you saw the pain take effect and will get lost to the winds…Just as all seemed blown into the never ends,yet that little tick and tok was braided in the weaves of His love.That yes a little faith,that little urge to trust and hold even onto stupid hope was all you ever needed.

Do not let go even if it is the last breath you got.

Hold on,your last is just your start.

PePa.