as i move through

I can't seem to find the courage to look my mother in the eye and tell her I am not hungry. Nor do I have the courage to tell my father I don't have the courage to go see my friend for the last time. But when Maamu calls me for breakfast, I oblige; when Daddy tells me to take some flowers, I pluck the two marigold blooms in front of me. I slip on an oversized t-shirt, pull on my tights, slip on a pair of flats and leave home. I am scared, but I don't want to cry. I take a bus to my best friend's home and listen to the old pop song blaring on the radio in the bus. I put my head on the windowsill and let it's vibration run through me. The window is open, the morning sun is blazing through it, the dirt on the road is flying everywhere. But I sit unfazed. Such trivial worries, I think. I know.  Why am I going to my best friend's, you ask? It's because I am scared and I don't know what to do. But I know that if I have a hand to hold, I will...

The clank of wood. The broken bricks poking at your heels. The eagles hovering high up above. The gloom in the sky. The smell of smoke and carcass. The echoing howls of misery. The conch competing with the cries. The weight of unshed tears. You see it. Yu feel it You smell it. You accept it. One moved on to a better place. Left so many behind: Family. Friends Left so much undone: Dreams. Promises. Stories. Memories. Ache. Pain. ... Void. You watch the father, Note their striking resemblance. You hear the mother, Feel her tears and yet not know their weight. Slowly succumbing to numbness, You seek an escape. You can't. You don't find the courage, the will. Glimpses and voices, Keep coming back at you. They won't ever stop, will they? … Silence. The fingertips turn white, yet you can't let go. The shoulder you c...