Bunguswa Writes.

When the sea in my eyes drowns the dreams; interring happiness in the realms of ice that freezes, I look up to the sky, sinking, I look up to God- He speaks- Within me , His conviction surges, I ink the tears. And to the rhythmic beat of the whirl winds; and to the silent whispers of solitude, I've mastered to dance embers of the morning sun under my skin without.  I know the sweet chilling sensation, resident in basking under the mild glow of a fecund moon, hopeful to dry my cheeks from my eyes' flow. ©Bunguswa Brian.

                 Chapter 1. "Son, find out the  number of innocent girls after Korir." My supervisor, a man of mean elegance had said in a calm but rather firm voice. He was troubled. It was during our tea break, after a long session of film making directed by Dr. Ndemo, one of the country's finest film makers.  "You did well with the Kiprop case, definitely you can do way much better with this one." Whatever assured his confidence in me remained best known only to him. My mind travelled back to his point of reference. I was more than consigned to oblivion.  "We don't want more deaths, identify them so we can stop this on time. " But who was Korir anyway? Why was my supervisor so sure that the girls after Korir were going to be killed? "My son, these people are not only rich but powerful too. They will do anything to safeguard their reputation." He paused long enough. "This is your call. I want you to run an e...

River reeds are dying Chirping of the morning birds is fading, that melody that lulls children back to sleep; distant and stubborn like a sheep, now slowly ailing to death. What can ail a river to death? What can ail a river to death? It's been full of life and health Alone and palely flowing, but birds too are dying in thrall° are the waters gently flowing to the grot° of death. Gently flowing to the grot° of death, in a wailful chant the river mourns of the diminishing zeal that echoed life Of the murmurs that awoke frogs And the satisfied splash that nourished lilies. But what ails the river to death? But what ails the river to death, if in the abundance of drowning bodies it's fed If heavenly tears replenishes it's flow, when the dark cloud frowns and cries? A river that forgets its past might die, shrinking to the stone-core water without. Shrinking to the stone-core water without, and ghosts of drowned bodies are emboldened Rising each day in their united ...

How do I talk my son into believing, that today's sun set in the morning? For decades he's listened to my daughters- of tales of the sun that rests in the west Today I tell him the sun bathed in the mud, when he demands why of a gloomy morning. He says papa today the sun is mourning, When he sees the dark cloud cry. Today's sun has set in the East- With the gloom morning rains our eyes So with my son we cry Hopeful, in  the west it will rise again. ©Bunguswa Brian™

I've run some miles I've walked the paths that were never mine I've been made to sleep and sink in mud I've married the pain I never loved. I've cried to the gods, I've milked and licked my sweat And I've tasted my salty flesh But fate has been sealed tight to hear my voice. Those days were golden yet deprived were glorious memories Of the golden heart Precious to sink in mud and in my air lacked the boldness to face the fear. Because I couldn't face this fear I rushed my meals on earth, and Quickly retreated to my formal world Still, I failed to tell the fear the fairy tale. ©Bunguswa.

There was a damn successful poet; There was a woman like the sun. And they were dead. They did not know it. They did not know their time was done. They did not know his hymns  were silence; and her limbs, that had served love so well, Dust, and a filthy smell. And so one day, as ever as the old, hands out, they hurried, knee to knee; on fire to cling and kiss and hold and in others eyes, to see each his own tiny face and in that long embrace Feel lip and breast grow warm to breast and lip and arm. So knee to knee they sped again, and laugh to laugh they ran, I'm told Across the streets of hell And then; they suddenly felt the wind blow cold, And knew, so closely pressed, chill air on lip and breast and, with a sick surprise, the emptiness of eyes. © Bunguswa.

Even though you are hurt, Son, take heart. Do not wail all will be well. Face today with a jolly face;  Before destiny present your case. It's said to be predetermined- it sucks; and our efforts are undermined; when we can't move for fate's sake, or for fear, and our dreams to gutters we take. Listen and rise up for tomorrow, dust your knees, stand tall and you'll glow. Even though you are broken, again, rise up, face the sky - float like a plane; to your destiny the winds will blow, fate and tomorrow will shine and glow. Shed tears to the core of your heart they build strength to battle the hurt. © Bunguswa.