And sometimes,
Pain camouflages itself into dreams
hopes
and forgiveness.
Make-believe healing.
Pain camouflages itself into dreams
hopes
and forgiveness.
Make-believe healing.
Be kind to yourself
Healing cannot happen without getting wounded
Whether in opening old ones
Or
Stitching.
Healing cannot happen without getting wounded
Whether in opening old ones
Or
Stitching.
"Why are you always looking for trouble?" they ask
"Because
As a poet
Nothing terrifies me more than a blank page
A blank mind" I'd say
"Because
As a poet
Nothing terrifies me more than a blank page
A blank mind" I'd say
Have you ever prayed to your pain
Asking it to take its foot off of your heart so you can take a breath.
Have you ever prayed to your tears
Asking if they can stay in a little bit longer
At least until you are by yourself
Have you ever prayed to your memories
Begging if they would let you see a face
Hear the voice
Of the lost one
Have you ever prayed to your mind
Asking for a break
Have you ever prayed to your heart
Hoping it doesn't listen to the mind
Have you ever prayed to your breath
Asking if it could just flow
And not break
Have you ever prayed to life
Asking if it knows you by your name
Have you ever prayed to death
Asking when
Have you ever prayed to closed eyes
Asking if they can take you somewhere else
Anywhere else
But here
Have you ever prayed to your arms
Begging to not give up
Have you ever prayed to your voice
Asking
" Are you there?"
Have you ever prayed to your scars
Asking if they could turn themselves in to beauty marks
Have you ever prayed to time
Asking if it could stop for a minute
Have you ever prayed to God
Asking if he remembers creating you.
Have you ever prayed
Because
You want to fight one more day.
One more life.
One more you.
Asking it to take its foot off of your heart so you can take a breath.
Have you ever prayed to your tears
Asking if they can stay in a little bit longer
At least until you are by yourself
Have you ever prayed to your memories
Begging if they would let you see a face
Hear the voice
Of the lost one
Have you ever prayed to your mind
Asking for a break
Have you ever prayed to your heart
Hoping it doesn't listen to the mind
Have you ever prayed to your breath
Asking if it could just flow
And not break
Have you ever prayed to life
Asking if it knows you by your name
Have you ever prayed to death
Asking when
Have you ever prayed to closed eyes
Asking if they can take you somewhere else
Anywhere else
But here
Have you ever prayed to your arms
Begging to not give up
Have you ever prayed to your voice
Asking
" Are you there?"
Have you ever prayed to your scars
Asking if they could turn themselves in to beauty marks
Have you ever prayed to time
Asking if it could stop for a minute
Have you ever prayed to God
Asking if he remembers creating you.
Have you ever prayed
Because
You want to fight one more day.
One more life.
One more you.
A collaboration piece with @vectorart
A frame can hold broken pieces as one
Giving you the illusion of wholeness
Trace back each crack and they will lead you to a single point left untreated
Its survival depends on the frame
Take it away and it all crumbles before your eyes.
A frame can hold broken pieces as one
Giving you the illusion of wholeness
Trace back each crack and they will lead you to a single point left untreated
Its survival depends on the frame
Take it away and it all crumbles before your eyes.
Forwarded from The Urban Center ( Kebet Eske Ketema)
"ኢትዮጵያዊ የፈጠራ ኢንዱስትሪ ፤ እንዴት አለማቀፋዊ ድንበሮችን ይሻገሩ?" በሚል ርዕስ ከብሩህ ክለብ መሥራች እና የቀድሞ የብሪትሽ ካውንስል አርትስ ፕሮግራም ዳይሬክተር ማህሌት ማዕረጉ ጋር ውይይት ይኖረናል።
ማክሰኞ የካቲት 2 2013 ከምሽቱ 2 ሰዓት እስከ 3 እንድትከታተሉ እና እንድትሳተፉ እንጋብዛለን ።
የከቤት እስከ ከተማ አዘጋጆች ።
Under the title "Ethiopian Creatives Industries : How to Cross International Borders" we will be talking to Mahlet Mairegu , the founder of Bruh Club and former British Council’s Arts Programme Manager.
Tune in and have your say live from 8 to 9 pm on tomorrow Tuesday February 9, 2021
The Kek team
ማክሰኞ የካቲት 2 2013 ከምሽቱ 2 ሰዓት እስከ 3 እንድትከታተሉ እና እንድትሳተፉ እንጋብዛለን ።
የከቤት እስከ ከተማ አዘጋጆች ።
Under the title "Ethiopian Creatives Industries : How to Cross International Borders" we will be talking to Mahlet Mairegu , the founder of Bruh Club and former British Council’s Arts Programme Manager.
Tune in and have your say live from 8 to 9 pm on tomorrow Tuesday February 9, 2021
The Kek team
Yes, that.
Those days
You know,
Where your lungs feels like a solitary confinement with four people in it breathing over your shoulder
You know,
Where your eyes are sensitive to light,
Any light
Light coming from your phone, the window, fluorescent tubes, smiles and kind hearts
You know,
Where you can taste the rust against the weathering gears in your brain
Where you hear others calling out your name but you have to blink hard a couple of times
To make sure whether you’re falling asleep or if it’s really coming from across your table
You know,
Where you don’t want to get out of the taxi
In fact, you didn’t want to get in, in the first place
In fact, you wanted to stay in
In your room
your bed
your mind
your dream
your skin
You know,
.
.
.
Don’t you?
Those days
You know,
Where your lungs feels like a solitary confinement with four people in it breathing over your shoulder
You know,
Where your eyes are sensitive to light,
Any light
Light coming from your phone, the window, fluorescent tubes, smiles and kind hearts
You know,
Where you can taste the rust against the weathering gears in your brain
Where you hear others calling out your name but you have to blink hard a couple of times
To make sure whether you’re falling asleep or if it’s really coming from across your table
You know,
Where you don’t want to get out of the taxi
In fact, you didn’t want to get in, in the first place
In fact, you wanted to stay in
In your room
your bed
your mind
your dream
your skin
You know,
.
.
.
Don’t you?
Do not get used to a routine that isn’t yours
Do not get used to the collective conversations from across a corridor
Do not get used to the phone rings
The tea breaks
The 5:30 pm rush to leave
The taxi line
Your cubicle
Do not get used to leaving your signature so obliviously that you don’t even check the date
Do not get used to breathing in blames and breathing out okays
Do not get used to your plastic chair
Do not get used to your meeting notebooks
Do not get used to problems that aren’t yours
Do not get used to names you can’t put a face on
Do not get used to time you watch passing by you
Do not get used to a life you’re obligately living
Do not get used to the collective conversations from across a corridor
Do not get used to the phone rings
The tea breaks
The 5:30 pm rush to leave
The taxi line
Your cubicle
Do not get used to leaving your signature so obliviously that you don’t even check the date
Do not get used to breathing in blames and breathing out okays
Do not get used to your plastic chair
Do not get used to your meeting notebooks
Do not get used to problems that aren’t yours
Do not get used to names you can’t put a face on
Do not get used to time you watch passing by you
Do not get used to a life you’re obligately living
Somedays
It takes my soul a number of existence
A number of lives
Within her
The old lady with a woven past around her neck
Within him
The young boy drunk in youth
Within it
A wasted dream
Within God himself
In flesh trying to fit into the skin of man
And
Somedays
It takes closing my eyes
Taking off all that skin and flesh
And there
I find myself
A pure energy
Until I have to be human again
It takes my soul a number of existence
A number of lives
Within her
The old lady with a woven past around her neck
Within him
The young boy drunk in youth
Within it
A wasted dream
Within God himself
In flesh trying to fit into the skin of man
And
Somedays
It takes closing my eyes
Taking off all that skin and flesh
And there
I find myself
A pure energy
Until I have to be human again
Check out my new account for experimental pieces @evertedjournals on IG.
••••
When I was young
Time held my hands
and helped me walk
One step after the other.
When I fell
It sat next to me
And waited.
How patient it was with my heart.
and now
As a grown up
I don’t fall as often as I used to,
But, when I do, it takes more time to get back up
And Time doesn’t wait for its peers
It goes on
Here I am
Lost
Tracing its footsteps.
Music: Solo Acoustic 5
Music by audionautix.com
#stopmotionpaper #stopmotion #stopmotionvideo #stopmotionlovers #time#poetrycommunity #poeticthoughts #poetryofinstagram #poetsociety
••••
When I was young
Time held my hands
and helped me walk
One step after the other.
When I fell
It sat next to me
And waited.
How patient it was with my heart.
and now
As a grown up
I don’t fall as often as I used to,
But, when I do, it takes more time to get back up
And Time doesn’t wait for its peers
It goes on
Here I am
Lost
Tracing its footsteps.
Music: Solo Acoustic 5
Music by audionautix.com
#stopmotionpaper #stopmotion #stopmotionvideo #stopmotionlovers #time#poetrycommunity #poeticthoughts #poetryofinstagram #poetsociety
A mountain range of touches out of reach.
.Where to Ship My Grief.
“She’s in a better place.”
How often I've heard those words,
Spoken with such certainty,
I wanted to ask,
In this place that stretches space and time,
is there no pain? No loss? No grief?
But most importantly, “Better for whom?”
“She’s with her God now” they would add
what good was there in saying that name to a 17-year-old girl
to whom the name God sounded no different than a stranger’s name
for so long, I didn’t know where to ship my grief
because for me, who didn’t know this “better place”
you were as good as lost
and I failed at finding you
14 years and countless shades of life
is what it took for me to understand I was grieving because
I thought you had no place to go other than home
I thought home meant only us
It is finally at 31 that it clicked
You are home
And we’re not
“She’s with HER God” feels different now
HER God, Her God
Because you see, I knew HER God
She’d wake up every 3:00am to talk to him
I guess, my lack of faith didn’t make it any less real for her
When father went to HIS God, she didn’t spend the rest of her life trying to find him
Like I did
For what’s hers was his
And now I know
What’s theirs is mine
And
Grief feels lighter when you know where to ship it
When there is an address and a name to attach it to
When you know there is a receiver at the end.
.Where to Ship My Grief.
“She’s in a better place.”
How often I've heard those words,
Spoken with such certainty,
I wanted to ask,
In this place that stretches space and time,
is there no pain? No loss? No grief?
But most importantly, “Better for whom?”
“She’s with her God now” they would add
what good was there in saying that name to a 17-year-old girl
to whom the name God sounded no different than a stranger’s name
for so long, I didn’t know where to ship my grief
because for me, who didn’t know this “better place”
you were as good as lost
and I failed at finding you
14 years and countless shades of life
is what it took for me to understand I was grieving because
I thought you had no place to go other than home
I thought home meant only us
It is finally at 31 that it clicked
You are home
And we’re not
“She’s with HER God” feels different now
HER God, Her God
Because you see, I knew HER God
She’d wake up every 3:00am to talk to him
I guess, my lack of faith didn’t make it any less real for her
When father went to HIS God, she didn’t spend the rest of her life trying to find him
Like I did
For what’s hers was his
And now I know
What’s theirs is mine
And
Grief feels lighter when you know where to ship it
When there is an address and a name to attach it to
When you know there is a receiver at the end.