By Taleabong B Alemnge
Sometimes I admire the grave.
Think about the comfort, tranquillity & internal peace that inherits the dead. No trouble, No rumbles from Landlords & those who feel superior, no squabbles about trivial points which sometimes end in pools of blood.
I live every second of my life walking the earth & at every footstep, i sometimes pause, stare blankly in space & ask rechtorically the significance of ME. I question my existence, the symbolism of my being here.
Sometimes it feels like some other person got better use of the air still hiding in my lungs.
Breathe is hope but Breathe & prejudice are two things hard to live with. Prejudice is another kind of human injustice. Its unjust when people have to judge you even before you’ve established your case. Its unjust when I’ve to go through a hectic explanation Just to make people understand why i see the things i see, why i think the things i think, why i say the things & say. Its unjust when i feel misunderstood although my intentions are good.
Prejudice is Just a snippet on my shelf of psychological battering.
I sometimes race to the seashore Just to watch the warmness of noon together with the cold sea breeze intercede for my red fresh stripes & scars.
For the sake of self worth & esteem, i sometimes stand firmly against the fast & furious waves, pinning my feet into the sand & fixing my fist into a round firm grip ready for a punch. Most often the waves melt away even before it reaches me. This has been the only way i console myself from the maligns of fear.
For the now, Grave’s not a home yet, so i throw my gaze far above the horizons for Life is hope but still Grave is better for the dead got no use for “hopes”
To be continued