Saturday, February 8

and I stand

All she wanted 
was to find a place to stretch her bones 
A place to lengthen her smiles 
and spread her hair 
A place where her legs could walk 
without cutting and bruising 
A place unchained 
She was born out of ocean breath. 
I reminded her; 
‘Stop pouring so much of yourself 
into hearts that have no room for themselves 
Do not thin yourself 
Be vast 
You do not bring the ocean to a river.’

— Tapiwa Mugabe, You Are Oceanic

The world is buzzing and exploding with light and sound. When I look up, all the summer fruit are slowly coming out, the insects are crawling, the air is thick, my heart is doing what hearts normally do - pumping - and I stand. I stand barefoot, on dry grass. I slap a mosquito. I stand, waiting.

I stand gobsmacked at Mugabe's words, I stand with a simultaneous thirst for people and a thirst for being alone away from everything. I stand broken, and so mixed up, and most of all I stand trying. Trying so hard to stop jumping from one mood to the next, trying to show people who I am, really, inside. 

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