When I Die

When I die, my body will lie still,
No longer will it feel the thrill
Of life’s wild ride, of joy and pain,
No longer will it dance in the rain.

The beating of my heart will cease,
No longer will it bring me peace
In moments of excitement and fear,
No longer will it whisper in my ear.

My eyes will close, no longer to see
The wonders of the world around me,
The colors, the beauty, the light,
Gone forever into the night.

My ears will hear no more sweet sound,
No laughter, no music will be found
To soothe my soul, to lift me high,
To make me smile, to make me cry.

My hands will lay at my side,
No longer will they be my guide
In reaching out to touch, to feel,
To hold onto what is real.

My legs will no longer walk,
No longer will they run or talk
In the language of movement, of grace,
No longer will they set the pace.

But when I die, I will not mourn,
For I will be reborn
Into the arms of eternity,
Into the embrace of infinity.

I will become one with the earth,
A part of the never-ending birth
Of life and death, of love and pain,
Of sunshine and of rain.

I will become a memory,
A whisper in the wind that is free
To dance and sing and fly,
To soar into the endless sky.

When I die, do not weep for me,
For I will be forever free
From the chains of mortal life,
From the struggles and the strife.

I will be a spirit pure and bright,
A star shining in the night,
A beacon of hope, a ray of light,
Guiding you through the darkest night.

So when I die, remember me,
Not as I was, but as I will be
In the realms of the unknown,
In the mysteries yet to be shown.

For death is not an end, but a beginning,
A new chapter in the story still spinning
Of life and love and dreams,
Of what is not as it seems.

@okelododdychitchats

Can I

In Kenya, where diversity thrives
Where different tribes exist, each with their own vibes
Can I be Luo, without being branded with pride
Can I be seen for who I am, and not what others decide

Can I be a Luo man, without being called a cheat
Can I walk with my head held high, without deceit
Can I be Kisii, without anger being my label
Can I break free from stereotypes, without any trouble

Can I be Kikuyu, without being called a thief
Can I rise above the assumptions, with belief
Can she be a Kikuyu lady without being feared as a husband killer
Can she lead with integrity, with respect revered

Can I be Kamba, without being called a witch
Can I live my life freely, without any glitch
Can she be a Kamba woman, without being seen as promiscuous
Can she be respected for her virtues, not seen as frivolous

Can I be Luhya, without trading everything for food
Can I break free from stereotypes, for my own good
Can I wear my dreadlocks, without being judged as a thug
Can I express myself freely, without getting shrugged

Can she have a nose piercing, without being called a slut
Can she have a tattoo on her thigh, without needing a rebut
Can I drive a Subaru, without being labeled as a fuck boy
Can I enjoy my ride, without causing any dismay

Can I be a man, wear my beards, without being seen as a dog
Can I be a man, without living in a fog
Can I be a Gen Z, without being seen as spoiled
Can I break away from stereotypes, without being coiled

Can I live in Roysambu, without being scandalous
Can I be judged for who I am, without being hazardous
Can she live in Umoja, without being a single mother
Can she be respected for her choices, without any bother

Can I be just me, black, bold, and beautiful
Can I embrace my uniqueness, without feeling dutiful
Can we break free from stereotypes, and just be
Can we live in harmony, and set ourselves free

So let us rise above the misconceptions and lies
Let us stand strong, with unity as our ties
Let us embrace our differences, and celebrate diversity
For in the end, we are all one, in this world of adversity.

@okelododdychitchats

Shadows of the Mind

Depression, a silent thief,
Stealing joy and peace away,
Manifesting in hidden grief,
Invisibly, it holds its sway.

Its shadow, heavy and dark,
Cloaks the day in endless gloom,
Leaving its victims stark,
Lost in sadness, trapped in doom.

The sufferers, masked in pain,
Put on a brave face for the world,
Hiding tears, going insane,
Their souls in turmoil swirled.

Some may turn to drink,
To numb the ache within,
But the sorrow still sinks,
Deeper, beneath the skin.

Others choose to stay sober,
Facing their demons head-on,
Resisting the urge to bend over,
Or from their troubles, to be gone.

Silent cries in the night,
Desperate whispers to the void,
Hoping for a sliver of light,
In a world that’s been destroyed.

Restless turmoil, sleepless nights,
Insomnia’s cruel embrace,
Their minds locked in endless fights,
Struggling to find some grace.

Their blood runs hot with pain,
A relentless, unseen flame,
Burning deep, driving them insane,
In the darkness, they call out a name.

What spurs this specter forth,
From its hidden, darkened lair?
What causes it to grip so tight,
Pulling souls into the pit of despair?

Is it a whisper in the wind,
A silent snare that tightens its hold?
Or is it diagnosed in broad daylight,
A truth that is stark and bold?

In the early stages, the signs appear,
Subtle hints of a storm to come,
In life’s fragile book, turning year by year,
Seeking solace, seeking some.

Survival in this endless fight,
Requires strength from deep within,
To chase away the darkest night,
And let the light of hope begin.

So reach out to those in need,
Offer a hand, a listening ear,
For in our unity, we can succeed,
In battling the darkness, fighting the fear.

Depression may linger, may stay,
But together, we can weather the storm,
With love and compassion as our ray,
We can find peace, and our souls can be warm.

@okelododdychitchats

Those Days

On bad days, when my heart feels heavy and my mind is clouded by shadows,
I turn to my pen.
Each word, each line becomes a lifeline,
a way to find my path through the fog of my emotions.

But there are days when inspiration eludes me,
when sadness grips me tightly and refuses to let go.
On those days, I find myself crying out into the darkness,
my tears soaking into the woven knitted material of my pillows,
the only witnesses to my silent suffering.

I long for someone to understand,
to share the burden that weighs so heavily on my soul.
Yet, in the silence of my solitude,
I am left to wrestle with my demons alone.

Hope becomes a distant memory,
a flickering flame struggling to survive in the midst of an endless night.
Sleep escapes me, leaving me to wander through the darkness of my thoughts,
haunted by the specter of despair.

But even in my darkest moments, I cling to the belief
that somewhere, somehow, there is light to be found.
And so, I continue to write,
to pour out my heart onto the page,
in the hope that one day, the shadows will recede
and the sun will shine again.

@okelododdychitchats

Why Valentines ?

Today, it’s been 22 years since he departed,
But God, weren’t you her confidant, her friend?
Why pluck her beloved on Valentine’s Day,
When you had countless other days to choose from?
Could you not have spared her this heartache,
Just for one more day, one day to hold dear?

We’ve been taught not to question your ways,
To accept your will as the ultimate decree.
But forgive me for feeling this is unjust,
Is this why your friendships are so few?

My anger rises, for she was still so young,
Just embarking on life’s journey with her family.
With young children, the eldest barely five,
She hadn’t yet found her footing, her stride.

Then, like a sudden storm, death swept in,
And snatched away her partner, her soulmate.
How can this be fair, to leave her
With shadows on a day meant for love’s celebration?

As others stroll hand in hand,
Amidst fragrant blooms and tender caresses,
She cloaks herself in sorrow’s shroud,
Haunted by the ghost of that day.

Even after 22 years, the pain remains fresh,
As if it happened just a breath ago.
She clings to his last words, his final touch,
His essence lingering like a bittersweet melody.

She recalls how his eyelids closed,
Never to flutter open again,
And how he lay, his head gently tilted,
Upon the Agha Khan, Kisumu bed,
As he breathed his final breath.

Death, they say, is a passage we all must tread,
But why, oh why, choose Valentine’s Day?

@okelododdychitchats