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Day 10: Do your toes feel like stones?

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I would if I could,

Come up to you
beaming like the moon
and say,
Do you know my heart
is trapped between your eyes?”.

I could come and
ask if you want to
take me out,


If you think of me like I do you,
If you have sleepless nights
and dreamy days,


If you feel like your toes
are carrying stones
when you feel me coming close,

Day 9: Mother

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Hold her palms long enough,
and they’ll tell you tales
of the labor she’s had
bringing you up,


Stare at her long enough,
and you’ll see the love
etched inside her pupil,


The wisdom braided
within her greying hair,
The unspoken fear
that you might one day
outgrow your need for her care,


Sit on her bedroom floor
when in despair and feel
the prayers that rent the air,

Day 8: Little Feet, Quick Feet

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These little feet
Ever too quick,


Like speed trains
and fast lanes,
Always running to
the next phase,


Finish school, find a job,
Meet a guy, marry now,
Hurry this meal, lest you miss that scene,
Rush through Monday
so you can get to Friday,


No pause,
No eye contact,


No notice of the
color cocktails in distant skies,

Day 7: Tension

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Sitting through tension feels like death,
A slow death of choking
an already winded breath,


The tension of leaving behind
who we are so we can
embrace who want to be,


The tension of saying goodbye to
princess dolls and ninja turtles
so we can wear ties and stilettos,


The tension of closing the door
to a relationship that we really want
but shouldn’t have,

Day 6: Leather skirts & Fur coats

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Truth is,
I like leather skirts and fur coats,


They show you what I’d like you to see,
Not what’s really inside of me,


They hide those lies I feed from at night,
They hide that tummy that I think looks funny,
And they help me linger when I pass by the mirror,


You too like my leather skirt and fur coat,


Day 5: Sore Eyed

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When days feel like nights
Despite the sun’s bright light,


When my heart has sunk into waves of angst,
And no aubade can pull it from the dark,


I feel like a child wandering in a forest,
looking for God whom she lost through her torn pocket,


I search and search,
I shout and scream
Until finally,
Sore eyed,
A dying whisper escapes my lips,

Day 4: Where are my words?

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I don’t have anything to write,

I’ve tried looking,
but my words are
playing hide and seek,

I could write about my heart
and how she woke up all worked up,

Afraid of trying,
Afraid of not trying,
Afraid of failing and
the future hidden from her eye,

I could write about the guy,
The one who’s eyes I’d love to get lost in,
The one who turns me into a gibberish fool each time he walks by,

Day 3 : To all the girls

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For the little girl forced to wear baggy jeans

and a bald head to deceive predators eyes,


For Kemunto, and every other girl

whose wounds run deeper than the ocean,


For all the women
who’ve been groped in public
and called a bitch for ignoring catcalls,


For girls all over the world
who have to look over their shoulder when the sun sets
for fear of being raped or molested ;

Day 2: The Paradox

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When I was a child
I’d watch my sister through eyes of longing,


How I wanted to be like her,

To wear jeans and walk in heels,
To have hips and painted lips,
Perm my hair and watch boys stare,


I’m now 23,
I have hips and I paint my lips,
I wear jeans and I strut in heels,
But in addition,
I edit my words and hide my thoughts,

Road called Risk : 30 Days of Poetry

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In the month of April I embarked on a personal poetry challenge. I have been writing since 2016, but this time round I wanted to write and publish a poem every day for the 30 days of poetry. April being poetry month, I got the prefect opportunity to finally take a step. Any writer knows how scary it is to share your work with the world, especially when that means coming up with afresh poem every day.

Richard Frost in his poem “The road less taken” has a phrase that is a personal mantra of mine,

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