There was darkness, and then there was light. You have not seen light like I have. Oh, if there was one like I who has! I walk the streets and watch everyone mind their time, mind their lives. They call it business. I walk the streets, and meet life in beings like I, but I see no life in their eyes. Why! I cannot help but wonder, does nobody notice all this light? You have not tasted the air like I have. Oh, if there was one like I who has drenched their organs in its freshness as I have! How I love how the rawness sinks down my depths! I look around me and see life move this way and that in worn-out vessels. Nobody seems to notice how free, yet priceless breath is, as the air is. Why! I cannot help but wonder, does nobody seem to care? You have not seen a human being like I have. Oh, if there was one like I who has seen a human walk, smile, talk, and love it all! I walk the streets, I come upon countless, with flesh like mine, and eyes, and ears, and nose, and mouth, hands, and feet, and-and hair! Oh, if I could touch one, if I could feel one, smell one, talk to one, If I could be around a human being, I know I would be happy. But the streets look sad, and cold and the people look like empty vessels, moving this way and that, minding their time, minding their lives the norm of business, they say. Why! I cannot help but wonder, do we not appreciate each other? Our existence, even in emptiness? You have not seen the darkness like I have. Oh, if there was one like I who has lived in it, dined with it, been it! It felt like forever, the emptiness, the aloneness, the silence, the hell, the hell, oh, the hell! but forever was an abstraction; survival was real, as living through hell was. A day was never a day, so, a fight was never a fight. That was okay, hope was okay. When I saw the light, and breathed fresh air, and walked the earth, came upon humans, I saw it. I saw it all. Life has never been the same since (through my eyes) and yet, that is all it remains to be— a revelation, sight. Little to nothing you can do with it. I chose to be, I chose to live. Nothing would ever be the same, I never would be. That was okay, hope was okay (it ever would be). ©Benie_Langat, 2021.
Photo by Matheus Bertelli from Pexels
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Benie is a poet and fiction writer, living in Nairobi, Kenya. He shares thought-provoking discussions, and occasionally does spoken word poetry and plays. Benie is also a freelance content and article writer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry.