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Sunday, 01 March 2015 21:45

Cheers; earning the stripes of life.

By  Celia Muturi
Here's to the movement, the stirring

barely discernible, in the dark

for no particular reason, with no specific end.

The kind you second-guess then dismiss,

half hearted but undertaken nonetheless.


Here's to hope

Even when it isn't warranted or encouraged

That rises with every dawn

after being petrified in the hardness of the night

waiting for the eventual changes and enlightenment time will bring

excruciatingly slow in their arrival.


Here's to healing

The kind that begins even before the injury is completely over

and may even return

starting at the edges and working its way optimistically inwards

towards the discouragingly necrotic core.


Here's to moving on

despite the doubt in your mind or the lead in your feet,

even the uncertainty of the path to be taken

where any motion is better than inaction,

standing still more terrifying than the gathering dark

because you are afraid that you may never move again.


And here's to dreaming again

after the first and most elaborate of them come to die

crushed to dust in reality's rolling weight

forcing the shimmering fractured pieces into the dust

so that even if you gathered them up again

some shards would be lost forever, 

others injurious and treacherous to retrieve

slipping from all the tears and blood

Here's to stooping over to try anyway.


Whatever it is, wherever it comes from

it is precious beyond all words and it is all we have left.

After the brutal taking apart to our bare and raw element,

as we are left flayed and exposed,

still it emerges.

 


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