dark fiction, dark poems, dark poetry, dark writing, Elders, family, Fiction, Grandmother, K.G. Bethlehem, life, literature, love, poems, poetry, poetry readings, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Friday Night Poetry Corner #114

Nairobi, Kenya
Nairobi, Kenya

 

Good evening everyone!  Welcome, welcome, welcome to another Friday Night Poetry Corner.  It is your host, K.G. Bethlehem.  The presenting poem tonight is my own gem, a gem written for a person who lost a special someone in their life.   We deal with life and death everyday.   Acknowledging the awareness of life while dreading death at the same time.  I wonder  if we actually take moments to enjoy what we have the fearfulness of dying would be an afterthought.  Well one would hope.

 

I hope you will enjoy tonight’s poem title called, “Her name is to be remembered.”  If you need to reflect on certain things please do so.  2016 is a year we loss so many famous people but much more not-so-famous ones…

 

Her name is to be remembered..

 

 

It was always a greeted smile,

a wonderful feeling showed to us,

the everlasting peace my dear elder

who we affectionately call grandmother,

or grandma,

of the wise one..

the element of your voice echoed strongly

among the wind ascending from the Karura Forest.

We walked forever in daylight

to listen for more guidance in vanishing wind,

waiting for the time,

to see you again,

noting everyone of holiday cheer,

discourage young ones’ tears

we weep for you,

we long for your touch,

a sweet kiss,

or a growl of admonishment.

Anything, everything, something,

we ached so much it makes our soul hurt.

We want so much it tires our mind into humility..

so sweet grandma, so pretty in knowledge

masterful learning under the Gĩkũyũi

loving the modesty in us,

your children,

in the foreboding dark season of cold,

yet warmth in believing you are here,

in spirit,

in blessings of comfort,

in wanting of self to see

a smile bending light,

for a better way

in saying we love you,

our wonderful hue…

we adore,

the circular road.

In belief we tried

to be more like you.

In life we strive

to be remembered like

you.

By K.G. Bethlehem

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