31.11.21.
There's something about fear.
The way it tightens all the bones in your chest.
I heard my heart pound. It was loud and clear.
But my tears, they were truly the ones I felt first.
It's the 31st of December, twenty-twenty-one.
Nothing felt special about this one.
Oh wait, I did cry, this time.
So maybe that's a special one, this time.
"You good for nothing woman! You're truly a disaster!"
The husky voice of my father, accompanied the sound of the glass vase smashing the wall.
Heart beating... clearer.. Faster.
I knew there was no one I could call.
Not mama Timothy, Not Uncle Paul.
They would all probably be in bed.
My tears were extra salty. My heart bled.
There was nothing that could be done.
All my fierce surface and "hard girl" became undone.
This broke me. This shattered me.
And everyday when there's another sun to see,
I ask myself "what if?". What if I was born someplace else.
Somewhere else.
Where fear and darkness were not my name?
Would that be so lame?
Just, WHAT IF?
YOU ARE READING
WHAT IF?
PoetryLife is full of "what ifs". There's no end to it's uncertainty. This narrative poetry, entails how Kamsi's life mirrors a gruesome childhood, fear of the unknown, violence, bitterness as well as the painful process that comes with the journey towa...
