Aluta continua!

Chest tight, lungs starving for air,  could not breath, is that the only existence  He set before me?

Siting on her back watching waiting, waiting for what?..

Hopped off her back, they are watching me, l am watching IT, IT is watching me,

Daring me, poking me. As if it was reciting my whole life story, my past, present, future, right there in that moment…

Sat back on her back, is that it? is that the only existence that He set before me?

the little bundle opened two black and white globes, looked back at me snipping through my my flesh, spirit and soul. I look straight back at it, from a deep dry cracking ditch containing  my frying brain. The little bundle sees it and wails!

is that it? Does the existence He set before me have meaning?

Its my fault, l ask too many questions, too curious, intrusive, l should mind my business, but them again, l thought he was my business, how does one separate the one?

Its my fault, l ask too may questions, too curios, intrusive, l should ton it down a bit

But then again he loved this about me, he said it was my business.

This is confusing…

is that it? Is it a constant inquisition of who l am, who lm not? Is my existence a continuous inquisition of who l am, who lm not?

are you not ashamed of yourself? Look at what you’ve done with your life, your children, your decisions, have you looked in the mirror lately? I advise you to pick up the shame bag right now, grab it! Lay hold of it!  A Strong hold of it! Put it on your head, your chest, strap it tightly to your back, you know  like you used to strap your children

actually let me help you!

is that it? The constant chattering, muttering of the accusing voice.

Is my existence a bagful of shame?

The thing is l wanted to see her, but l didn’t, you know, the gaps, so she died,

The thing is l thought they housed victims of domestic abuse, but they didn’t, you know, the gaps, so l went back

The thing is lve been carrying it them they, for many years, talked about it, them, they for years, hitting walls, dustbins. Then it kind of moulded itself onto me, sometimes I wonder if l moulded into it you know?

Any way…

I sing l sing l sing

Model/Artist: Laura Nyahuye

Wordsmith: Laura Nyahuye

Designer maker: Laura Nyahuye

Photographer: John Whitmore

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