I know they’re wondering, the passersby returning from the market
Why a bearded man is throwing stones in the pond, causing such a racket,
I can see it in their bewildered faces, a suppressed giggle on their lips,
After pleasantries are exchanged, and I’m left gawking at a lady’s hips.
But maybe they don’t know how it feels like, sitting at the same spot you did as a kid,
Facing the moon on a cloudless sky, the sun tucking in behind you as you feed,
Fish, mosquitoes and a host of other insects euphorically buzzing and singing around you; biting,
The late Polisi, our loyal dog savagely barking at the monkeys in the tall trees near the farm lurking.
These are some of the memories we lost, what adulthood erased,
Compromised by years in the big city chasing dreams, this I can attest,
Had forgotten about the beauty of natural stars on a quiet cloudless night, not those products of limelight,
Had forgotten about the beauty of a natural African woman in a frock, got used to the sheilas in mascara and skintight.
So I’m not ashamed of throwing a stone at the frog tainting the beauty of a lily,
In mama’s now derelict fishpond, overgrown with grass and reeds, once a dilly,
Out here I’m that kid again, free of spirit with no shackles holding me back,
Lost in reminiscence; wishful thinking, what would I give to go back?
*Dedicated to my brother Vitalis*
Madekesiworld 