REEKING OF RESURRECTION

I've been labelled strong, a title that carries both weight and misconception. I've survived things that felt like they were meant to kill me, to break me, to erase me from existence. The memory of it is exhausting, a heavy burden that I've carried for far too long. It's like a perpetual fog that clings to my skin, making my eyes heavy with the weight of it all. The world around me seems to be in constant motion, pushing me over, pulling me down, gripping my ankles like an unforgiving vice, never letting me take one step forward.

And if this is what you call strong, I don’t want it. I don’t want to be defined by my ability to withstand pain, to endure suffering, to survive against all odds. Because most nights, I fear that my ribs will break from being crushed beneath the weight of it all. I fear that the cracks will spread, that the fractures will deepen, and that I'll shatter into a million pieces, never to be whole again.

But here's the truth: I am not strong. I am battered, bruised, and broken. I am a patchwork of scars, a mosaic of memories that refuse to fade. I am a testament to the power of resilience, yes, but also to the fragility of the human spirit. I have just bloomed out of death that found me, and I still reek of resurrection. Can you smell the mud on me? The earthy scent of struggle, the dampness of tears, the richness of rebirth?

I am a garden of contradictions, a landscape of paradoxes. I am strong and weak, resilient and fragile, broken and whole. I am a work of art, imperfect and incomplete, still being shaped by the hands of time. And if you look closely, you'll see the cracks, the fissures, the scars that crisscross my surface. You'll see the beauty in the brokenness, the strength in the fragility.

So, let's redefine what it means to be strong. Let's say that strength is not about withstanding the storm without flinching, but about facing it head-on, with all its fury and ferocity. Let's say that strength is not about being unbroken, but about being brave enough to be broken, to be vulnerable, to be human.

Comments

AWAKENING: STORIES UNTOLD, STORIES UNHEARD AND STORIES UNREAD

Correct me if I am wrong, but I remember all the words you like to say behind closed doors. She whispered in my ear “I take you as you are and you will be. I won’t try to change you but I will ride out change with you. I see you and I will never ask you to be less or more.” With words so charming and full of meaning, that’s how she destroyed me. I have been awed and terrified by the experience of being in love to the extent that when it’s love, I’d rather close the book and put it back on the shelf. I do not know how to hate no matter how much I have been wronged. I met Tuseke when I had gone for my usual check-up at the hospital. She was there to visit her grandmother who was gravely ill and on admission. She had asked for directions to get to the elderly female ward, that was just the same way to Doctor Mayepi’s office. My all time go to health practitioner. We walked hand in hand and talked about a few things on science and medicine. She hated being around the hosp...

LOVE LETTER TO TOBI

Tobi; You are the chapter that I didn’t know it’s words. No matter what takes place, my heart will always choose you. Like a bedtime story book, I will open my chest and read to you all my love. I said; “I want to relearn love in a beautiful way.” and I knew the universe remembered me the day that I met you. You have given oxygen to the parts of me that were suffocated, energy to my broken bones. Your name belongs at the tip of my tongue, I want to speak of you and with you all day long cause there’s a certain kind of magic in your name. I want to wrap my entire body around yours. I want the love that ravishes and envelops me. My hands long to hold you, to lace my fingers all over your lips, to feel the whole of you on my skin, to breath your scent and fill my lungs with your precious cologne. Kegi….

AKAPUSA MUDYERE

Misonzi yachimwemwe idatsikira mmasaya mwa Sitelia kuchoka mmaso mwake. Sadathe kukhulupirira kuti loto lake lakwaniritsidwa. Zinali ngati kuti ali mtulo ndipo ali kulota. Chapatali potero Waisoni adakhala chete mkumaonerera mwambo wonse wa ukwati wa mkazi wake wa kale. Adakumbukira mmene amkamutukwanira komanso kumunyoza mkazi yo pa nthawi imene adali limodzi, mtima wake udagunda koposa ndipo anamva kuwawidwa. Kwa iye mkazi anali kalopo koposa ndipo amkakhulupirira kuti kumtchenetsa mkazi Kapena kumuyambitsa bizinesi kunali kutaya nthawi komanso kuononga ndalama chabe. Tsiku liri lonse Sitelia adali akukhala odandaula ndinso kugona ndi njala limodzi ndi ana ake awiri pamene Waisoni adali kupita kuzisangalalo kumene amakadyako mang'ina, zibwente, tchipisi ndi fuloze. Amkapita kunyumba atakhuta ndipo amkangofikira phiii kugona. Khalidwe li mkazi atafika potopa nalo anayamba kuyenda yenda mnamakasaka chakudya cha iye ndi ana ake ndipo waisoni analibe nazo ntchito. Pamene mkazi yu ada...

LETTER TO KAMBANI

Dearest Kambani, I write this note to you for there is an ache in my ribs. Your sugar-coated deceit made its way through and I felt like all the air left my lungs after I heard and read out all your lies. You said; “I will answer you before you even call to me.” Little did I know you were trying to memorize Jeremiah 33:3 on me. You said; “I will be your peace.” But; Don’t be my peace. I already have that. First, be at peace with yourself and everything around you. I know this note will make you remember the warmth of my touch, how it made your heart race, the joy you claimed I brought to you. I had mixed portions of happiness and loyalty between the things I love and you with a pinch of sugar to align the moments. That’s how much I cared. I am blooming in your absence after being trapped in the cage of your lies and deceit, after you sliced me a dose of pain and moments of tears. Leaving you came hand in hand with finding myself – Broken but Function...

CHAPTER 28

The truth failed to set me free. I do not know how to speak the truth without it sounding like an apology, But I am learning to share the room with peace. You said these broken pieces won't fit together, But I have out grown those words and will shrink to fit, For courage has greeted me. Drop me here and leave me be, This is just a chapter not my whole story....

LIVIA'S BOOKLET

Search This Blog