I want to sit outside.

Even if it is cold. Even if it is raining.
Because I’ll die in there.
Suffocated by that stale blistering air.

I would rather be here outside. Breathing fully with my lungs.
No matter the cloudy skies filled with polluted air.

Here my brain is clear.
I clutch on to the finite freedom I can claim for myself.
Alone. Unbothered.

Without umuzi. Without a home.
Because where would that be for me? Where would I fit?
How would I stretch myself out.

I would rather feel my hair raise, my skin bump, my teeth chatter.
Than to slip into a silent coma because of the lack of oxygen to my brain inside there.

From nine to five.
Five days out of seven.
Too many weeks in the year to count.

I would rather not.
But what will I eat?
Where will my head rest?
That building has me like quicksand.

Now answer me this, what is life meant to feed : the heart or the stomach?

I sit here suffering as to why it can’t be both.

                                -Nonjabulo Kandawire 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s