Gracias Rabbana

Gracias Rabbana, nashukuru Abba Father!
I can't hold these thank yous any longer,
and in all humility I'll approach no other.

Gracias Rabbana, my heart throbs enough for me to write this alive.
Gracias Rabbana, my mind still perceives tomorrow in all its intentions.
Gracias Rabbana, my soul still respires to your breath and my spirit accords.

I thank you. Because many a time I haven't.
I have dived deep into moments without reflecting back
to even silently whisper a thank you.
I thank you. Because I've grown to realize life.
I have developed a consciousness only you would grant
in all its abundance as I sought after it.
I thank you. Because you've decorated my life
anointed my steps and blessed the works of my hands.
I thank you. Because there's so much I'd utter right now
that would look so minute in your even greater and bigger eyes.

Gracias Rabbana! You know me too well!
You know when I fault, you see when I stumble.
You've seen the mess I am and the struggles I couldn't overcome.
You've seen the paths I've taken and the roads I couldn't advance.
You've seen the foods I ate and the strange ones that choked me.
You've seen the games I played and the tournaments I lost.
You've seen it all, Rabbana, you've been aware of my actions, all along!

Gracias Rabbana! It is you who sees no fault in weakness
when we run to you for strength.
It is you who sees beyond my conceit and that which I'm vain in when it's always been your grace.
It is you who looks beyond my helplessness in my dire time of need because you're hope itself.
It is you who distinguishes that which I do good and there where I slip, the author and finisher of my faith.
It is you who knows when I am supposed to be grateful,
and I know it's all the time.. so,
Gracias Rabbana!

I'll lift up your banners, graffitied all over with your fulfilled promises.
I'll declare "Gracias Rabbana" in the secrets of my chambers
and even conspicuously overt in public if I have to.
I'll humble myself and uplift the undying grace you've had over me.
I'll listen to the humming of our busy lives and create a
thank you song for all you've done.
The children will sing it, the youth will echo it,
the old man will believe it and the old woman will dance in your favour.
I'll chant your praises in the morning and in the shadows of the night,
and choirs will sing in the background as they hymn your praises
saying;


Gracias Rabbana!

Fake world, Fake people

I say fake world, I say fake people,

because we are real but unreal.

We believe in our realities

and doubt possibilities.

We dream to achieve,

but hope to receive, without working for it.

See, they smile in your face,
but are quick to replace,
love with hate, when you are late
on your promises.
We dwell on premises,
the same premises, with our nemesis.
From the beginning of time;
Genesis, we've learnt that,
not all that glitters is gold,
we're told, not every story unfolds,
the way it's told.

We spice things up, we're nice, in person,
twice worse in our confines.
We hate you when you're alive,
but die with you in tears,
when you are in your coffins.
We are stubborn, from the day we're born,
we are vulnerable, until we are gone,
so we learn to be fit, wear suits that fit,
for survival is not for the prettiest, yes,
this race is meant for the fastest.

That's why many are quick to fake to look the part,
to play the part, to seem the fittest.
And I detest the fact that we were born here,
it's clear, everyday, that we are full of fear.
We say what people want to hear,
we have become people pleasers.
We come to the dinner late,
to miss the appetizers,
we eat junk, lost souls serving us free pizza,
because the system has subjugated us.

We are broke,
and most of us broken.
We are tied behind technology, so they can feed off of us,
we are fake because we choose not to,
we are born this way.
Fake till it seems normal,
learn the etiquette to seem formal,
we are learning to grow more,
without having to stumble.

May you, oh Lord, guide us on our feet,
in the right paths, with the right math,
until we get home. Fake world!

Halima, Halima

"Halima, Halima!" she called out.
"These clothes won't wash themselves!"
she added!
and Halima had to wake up.
The lines of people at the well
by chance she got there late,
would not have her clothes
washed and on the drying lines
by the gate, by the time the sun goes down.
So she puts on her torn cardigan,
quickly fetches the jerrycans
and runs to the well.
Well, this is her life, everyday,
unlike her brothers,
who will not need to learn,
no, not in the walls of a classroom, but,
the ways of a woman,
expecting marriage by the young age of 14.

She sighed, as she stepped outside,
and walked by the side,
as was expected of every woman;
while looking down, not to lock eyes with that of a man.
The morning breeze kissed her beautiful face
and reminded her of herself,
who she craved to be in the moonlight.
The star she yearned to become
was wrapped up in dirty clouds
full of vengeful lightning and thunder.
She was scared of herself
more than the society that
tried to shepherd her into its ways,
its old ways of doing things.
She was afraid she would conform
and cease to grow.
She was afraid she'd never be
as educated as her three brothers.
And that's why every dusk, when the cattle
her father owned, as dowry,
from two previous early marriages of her sisters,
came back to the rest to rest
from the green pastures on the slopes near Elementaita
signifying the arrival of night,
she served food to her brothers
and in generous amounts,
so as they slept soundly,
she'd sneak their books out
in the faint flickering light
of a candle and try to learn.

No school for girls,
no education to the society.
See, a lamp covered
is no source of light.
A flower blooming in the dark
loses the color of its petals,
and the vibrance of the green in its leaves.

Educate a girl-child and you water
a dying species of a tree.
Educate the girl-child and you quench
the thirst of a parched nation, a thirsty nation.
Educate the girl-child and you increase
the waters in a sickly trickling stream,
which can now carve a way of its own
and explore the world.
Educate the girl-child and you save
the world.

Halima, Halima,
I'm proud of you, Halima!