‘Ng’ombe’ and ‘Kwani wewe ni ng’ombe?’ Were the phrases that filled my ears In my rogue childhood I remember how you pinched my ears When it was reported that I

Am tiny Yes,  a bead lost into the oblivion I am a fragment One soaked in black tar and difficult to trace I am a broken shell with serrated sides

I thought I was worthless Until I found a disabled orphan on the streets teaching the word to his peers And no more did negative notes scribble my pad I

Does putting your feet in water And flapping your limbs in the shallow end Make you an expert swimmer? Does masking your photo with word art And applying numerous filters

Beauty is not in the eyes of a beholder It is simply on the subject Beauty is not relative But it’s opinion is relative to the subject An eye sees

I cannot be you Maybe because my nose is proportional and yours is not I cannot live like you, talk like you or walk your ways Maybe because am unique

If Jesus be my center Then I worry not of my dark corners If He be my core My squeaky un-greased parts bother me not If He be my cornerstone

My love I will not run miles for you Neither will I trudge rocky hills for you I cannot promise the constant supply Neither the harsh struggle and the sigh