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Christopher Fundirwa Poem
1. Shapeless Pain
How I wish the mirror were a cinema screen,
Portraying that which makes up dreams and imagination.
How I wish it had filters to colour my skin,
For now I stare at what is far from being God’s creation.
Murder I can write, or sing it in a song
But writings and songs won’t right what is wrong.
How I wish this writing on the slate was erasable.
How do I erase it without shattering it all?
Tears flow but all they do is corrode its edges.
The dark shrieks my name and soon I’m to heed its call.
The call to end the misery I miserably bear.
Will anyone then at least pretend they held me dear?
My pillow now has turned to a pillar of salt.
I cry myself into the night, the night grows colder.
The regret burns me white as a bright lightning bolt.
I try to be brave and bold yet the writing gets bolder.
“If only…” the words shatter my eardrum.
Oh lord how did I become ever so dumb?
They say you can never heal what you never reveal.
How do I reveal what will only kill my appeal?
How do I deal with pain so surreal and yet so real?
Would I dare give in to the devil’s darning deal?
If only I could turn back the hands of time,
I would play different the hand of cards I was dealt.
Sieve through and through my fingers do the sands of time.
My mind through hell yet my icy heart won’t melt.
As I shatter every mirror, every new one is a horror.
As the darkness draws nearer, every ray is a borer.
I resort to solitude, yet my mind won’t give me peace.
How I wish I could just die and be awoken by a kiss.
Lord knows how I feel, lord knows I’m almost done.
Should I begin to write my will, or stay on the run?
Copyright © Christopher Fundirwa | Year Posted 2021
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Christopher Fundirwa Poem
In the beginning was darkness, like in any other shell
Then a crack and out came the typical caterpillar
Into a jungle with so many like him and unlike him
Moths, caterpillars, dragon flies and other killers
The journey had begun, to grow, eat and grow
He never knew he was the one, but he knew he wasn’t slow
Who was to mind the sloppy caterpillar?
When all he could do was grow, eat and grow
Who was to look beyond his youth regalia?
When all his peers had theirs ripe for show
Little did he know he’d shed it all away
But until then he had nowhere to go
All he could do was roam his tree home
All he could do was grow, eat and grow
The world looked at him as the butterflies’ brother
Telling him to fly despite having no wings
He tried to strut his dull green colours
He sought solace in his deadly sting
For long he longed to soar in the sky
To be the envy of all and sundry
To don rainbow colours like elder butterflies
After such thoughts he was always hungry
Lord knows the world was moving too slow
And all he could do was grow eat and grow
So ate he did and big he grew
Then into his cocoon he obliviously stumbled
His shell was cracking and little could he do
Except accept who he was and be humble
As he emerged, his world hadn’t changed
But what he saw was the same thing different
As did the world when it set its eyes on him
The sluggy, the slow worm was now flying colours
In his presence, his brothers were moths
A background in a Da Vinci masterpiece
Marvel and wonder in their thoughts
They wondered if this was who their brother is
High he soared, higher than ever
For the world to see him for he was now visible
It thought he’d been who he was since forever
It knelt at his feet and put him on a pedestal
Higher he soared and colder he grew
And harder it proved for him to breathe
That’s when he knew exactly where to go
Where he could grow, eat and grow
He had grown in this world as a caterpillar
And this world had made him callous
Now he had flown in this world as a butterfly
And it named him flying colours
So the butterfly it chose to butter
And the worm it chose to shun
Is it ignorant or is it too blind to see
That the worm and wonder are one?
Copyright © Christopher Fundirwa | Year Posted 2022
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Christopher Fundirwa Poem
Note
One lonely day,
My thoughts wide and far,
You went out of your way
To put a few stars
To drive out the dark
Thoughts from my troubled mind
And left instead a spark
Igniting faith in womankind.
Copyright © Christopher Fundirwa | Year Posted 2021
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