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Mukoi Musagasa Poem
My flower
My precious flower
The flower that gave out many flowers
Flowers including me.
You were my flower
Yes, the mother flower
The flower that withered without been sick.
I knew one day we might depart
You first or me
But I never thought of you
Just departing so fast, so easily, so silently
Without a good bye..!
you were not old; Matronly beautiful
You marked the beauty of our world
you made the scent of our garden
The light of our heaven.
I always prayed for you to wait a little
Just few minutes to see me grow
I dreamed you to enjoy my flowers
The new garden I'm creating from my seeds.
I wanted you to mentor the little roses of mine
How to be beautiful in and out
How to be beautiful forever.
Why you choose not to wait a little?
Why you just go that way?
What grub made you shrivel?
What Pupa withered you so fast?
Tell me...
Who should I blame then...
you or the creator of the chrysalis?
I just don't know
For sure, my heart will be sick forever.
Copyright © Mukoi Musagasa | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Mukoi Musagasa Poem
For three score years and little more you lived
Did you at once think of yourself?
Did you at once rest?
When the heartless sun bitterly scotched your back
You never thought of it
You concentrated on planting a tree instead
You only thought of how to overcome the merciless sun rays.
I thought you needed a tree for you to rest under
But when it blossomed
You rested not— you let others enjoy instead.
When they were busy enjoying
You were busy pruning, tilling and watering
Making it more and more enjoyable.
It came a time when we started making our own gardens
I thought it was a time for you to rest
But no!
You unplanted flowers from your beautiful garden
Giving us to make our own
I never saw you rest
Never at once saw you enjoy the fruits of your sweat.
You just thought of others
Sacrificed your happiness to make others happy.
Did anyone ever think of you?
Did someone ever think of your agony?
At least at once!
Was there a minute
When you cared for yourself?
Was there a time when you stop thinking of other people’s problems…Just concentrating on your own?
Now I’m at your grave
The stone is written:
“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord…
They will rest from their labors…”
Perhaps it’s true
You’ve now rested
Only think of yourself.
Copyright © Mukoi Musagasa | Year Posted 2015
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