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She left

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I was there at the very end, I saw the very last processes of life, I felt the pulse fade, I saw the eye lids give, I heard the desperate gasps for air, I smelled hope leave, I was there at the end and all my senses were alive but I was so freaking numb, I was numb physically and it penetrated  right to the core of me, leaving me a cold shell, like her when she left...she left yesterday in a journey of close to five minutes and I stayed there to the very end and for the life of me I don't know why I stayed. Maybe I stayed because of how she stayed and carried me on her back when I was around three or four, and then I got too old for her to carry me so she beat the hell out of the sling I brought to her to carry me in and told me if I ever brought the sling to her again she would beat me as much. I never touched that sling again.... Maybe I stayed because of how she treated four boils I had on my backside when I was seven and I wouldn't let the doc touch me, but she soothed me...
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Daddy sold my memories

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Daddy has a disease, he has had it for a long time, since I was a little girl. Nobody likes to admit that he's sick, they all prefer to be mad at him, point their long fingers at my daddy, like he doesn't already know he has a problem...sometimes I have been with them, pointing, blaming, bitter, angry. That is when I was younger, before I started going against the grain. Daddy has a disease, he has had for a long time, since I was a little girl. It makes him tremble, his eyes watery, his mind weak, his mouth loose, his heart hard. Nobody likes to admit that he's sick, they all call him names, they brand him, they display their disappointment in him, they warn their kids not to be like him...like he doesn't already know he has a problem. Daddy has a disease, he has had it for a long time, since I was a little girl. It made my mommy leave, it made us all leave, it made me miss out on daddy conversations in school, it made me sick with worry and fear, it made my sister g...
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Location: Haller Park - Butterly Park, Mombasa
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THIS IS MY STORY; THIS IS MY SONG…..

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THIS IS MY STORY; THIS IS MY SONG….. Everyone has their own story, but sometimes we all have moments where we wish someone else would come into our story and write it with us or for us…….and sometimes they do, they come in with us, until we realize how important it is to do our own story on our own, because someone’s story is their brand. And we all understand how crucial proper branding is. People may come into your story but they shouldn’t be the ones to write it for you, they are just potions and you are the alchemist that mixes them together to share with the world who you are or are not. Sometimes I feel like a phoenix when it comes to my brand, my story…..at some points in my life I have burst into flames in the middle of my story, but somehow I rise from the ashes, and I have to put my story in a different perspective like a minstrel who realizes that to please the king with his song he must sing the same words in a different rhythm…..I call it self-rebranding or reinven...
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