Moving on... Facing reality

One of those days when you sit and think to yourself, why does the clock have to tick all the time, that why don't things ever stop for a while. We often ask ourselves these things when we find ourselves dwelling in the past. A while ago when I was doing metric I met this friend, we got along so well, we shared memories and the best part was that we got to see each other everyday because of school. She could tell when something was bothering me when we would be laughing with the crowed she could tell if I'm not happy. She sensed many odd things when something has gone wrong. You meet someone for a year, and you are never going to see them again, it was our last year of school and we had to path and find ourselves into the new world outside high school. She kept on losing weight, but we thought it was just normal. After metric we spoke a few times, as time went by there were no more talks, or getting in touch. In almost two years, I hear from another friend of mine that she is sick and that she is losing more weight than before. I then hear that the cause of it all is cancer. I froze and felt guilty for not keeping in touch the whole time. Then finally I got the urge to just greet her via a social network, I tried to act as normal as possible. We continued having normal chats as though nothing is wrong. What had struck me the most is that this person doesn't have much time left, this person didn't tell me personally about the illness, and here I am pretending to be okay as if I know nothing. It brought me into tears, it amazed me how easily we found our friendship and how easily we let it slip away, but actually how difficult it is to let go. How I was afraid to ask "how are you?", knowing she is not well, knowing she is dying. I kept on asking myself that maybe she is too afraid to tell me about it, that she thinks I wouldn't handle the bad news well. Yet on the other side I kept thinking to myself that if I tell her I know she will get more sick because she will worry. But if you notice all I've said is "Me" "I", what about her? Who is there for her in this hard time? How is she coping with the fact that each day is slowly fading from her life? As I opened my year book (metric) I read the message she wrote there, how each word came to me rolling like a storm, how it hit me hard as though I was just in that moment when she wrote it. It is one thing to hear about someone's death (something that had happened) , it is totally another when they are in the process, and there is nothing you can do to help. All you do is to keep on praying, that is what our grandmothers and mothers have taught us. A little voice creeps out and just whispers that "there is always hope", as though the cancer will disappear. Knowing very well that all you can do is just be there for the person, show them love, and gratitude for adding a value in your life. Finding that strength to face them and helping them face the difficulties of this life. It then comes to mind that life is not cruel, it may be unfair at times, but it is just here to teach us, that every situation is a scenario, you must study it well. You just have to continue to make your goals and achieve them, knowing that you are also doing it for those who can't. Taking each opportunity with both hands. Moving on knowing it was/is never your fault, but nature intended it to be so. Being greatful for life.

World of Poetry

If I could wake up in a world of poetry
Never would I have to compare and complain
For it is plain clear
That we share the words of writing

IF I COULD Wake up in a world of poetry
Never would I fear
For I tear the history of my past
Without a tear touching my delicate chics

IF I COULD wake up in a world of poetry
Mistery wouldn't be history
For we would be dancing to different
Rhythms of misery

IF I COULD wake up in the world of poetry
The words would define peace
From those broken pieces
Of our vase's
That hold together lillies


By: Yamkela Sigwili

loss of July

Tomorrow on the 16th of July marks the day my grandmother left this world. I'm only saying grandmother to clearify, but that woman was my mother, never have I called her grandma. I was her first grand-daughter, and that makes me pround. The most painful part about death is having to replace words such "she is" with "she was". At first you are indenial, and consider a now. But then later along the way you start to learn to talk in past tense. The pain that takes over when I think of her. I know one thing for sure, she died a proud person, for she raised strong people. Multiple times have I failed to say or write anything about her. This is the first time. As she is resting and watching from above, I want her to know that she is dearly treasured. I wrote a personal poem for her  

MY GRANDMOTHER 

Lilly flower she named me
Planted in her hands
I was just a seed
Go on now bloom
My lilly flower 
Dazzle the world
I'm puzzled by such beauty
However I'm complete
The glass may break into pieces
But I shall mould you
Because you are a blessing
I sing the tunes about my lilly
I dance in the garden where I may guide you
Her voice and mine
In a valley 
Where her imagination ran
About her flower
My little lilly flower
She would say
Go on now bloom
Dazzle the world
I'm puzzled by such beauty
However I'm complete!
...................................................................... 
I miss her, words don't begin to describe the feeling. The joys I've had with her. Rest in peace mama wam.

Strength of a family

When one person holds the whole family together, when their gone, it all falls apart. That person is mostly a woman, with grey hair. Wisdom to guide, cherished when no longer there. When a family is most filled with girls, the relationship gets ruined when their teens, when the other is irresponsible and the other reliable. When the other is the most quiet. How they would fight about silly things that later on count against them when they are all grown. A mother who is always there to stop their fights, who always prays, takes them to church, then prepares a feast for a real get together for  sunday lunch. How the two girls would fight and "mama" always there to stop it, when the third daughter is just quiet. When they are all grown, when "mama" has turned grey hair, how the third daughter is still quiet, how the two never stopped fighting. When grand kids are affected, forced to be apart, observing all the negative energy, and yet still manage to put those cute smiles on their faces. How it would make mama happy having all her kids around the table, to her it doesn't matter much about the arguments. She is most concerned about the quiet daughter, she never says how she feels, "everything is okay" she would say. When the woman with grey hair numbers are numbered, laying at the hospital, nothing she can do. The fist that folded the hands can't hold them no more. When fighting never stops, when they don't visit each other no more, they bump into each other where the old woman is resting. A part of the old lady wants to be set free and leave this earth, for she has had enough. But another wants to stay, hoping when she wakes up, she can fix things. What would change this time around? None of them are showing gratitude. Silence never made peace, except tear ones soul apart, shouting never solved a thing, except raising noise. A woman with grey hair is tired, she wonders where has she gone wrong? Just because bricks are building up, it doesn't necessarily mean they are stable. Years gone by, bad habits grew. Does one bring it all down and starts building or does one try to shape it up. Trust broken between siblings, who fixes it, how? The old lady needs love, the woman with grey hair is tired, she has had enough. She did all she could, till she couldn't no more. If you have an old lady who needs to be cherished, loved, prayed for, then do so. She is tired, its time you fight for her, its time you said something, its time you lowered your voice, its time you let children be, differences are fine, total different is not good. If sisters of one household don't get along, where does it leave the rest of the world? The old lady is tired, let her soul rest, don't make life make that decision for you, she is tired!

Have you found your purpose, what are you waiting for?

Have you found your purpose, what are you waiting for?....  I would like to believe that we do live in a world of possibilities. Impossiblities are what we face only by the word of mouth from someone else. Prosperities are what we long for when we standing and hoping that one day is one day. Reaching a destination is not about stopping, it is about learning about that certain environment. Many people ask the question "what do you do when you reach your dream?" and many will answer "dream another one"... I ask "really...another one?" "what have you done with that dream that it is being disposed?" "would you go that far only when you get it you drop it?". When finding gold, you need to manufacture it, make something out of it that is valuable, that was worth the effort, that makes you realise that is was worth that extra mile. Have you really found your purpose? I'm not talking about something that pleases other people, but that gives you pleasure. If you have found your purpose don't stop there, make a brand out of that cloth. If a shirt was made from it, maybe it's time you make a skirt, better yet add another purpose to that one. There is nothing wrong in dreaming another dream after you have reached it, but don't neglect it, add to it. You would be surprised if you went through my list, and you will be surprised of the few I've achieved and you will wonder if "will that girl reach them all", yes, at the back of my mind I already have. That is the attitude one needs to carry, it sounds like its a lot of work, but it reduces the load. Today I discovered that the roads we walk are similar but however NOT the same. Let someone inspire you to be you, to be the best you can be. After all originals always take the frame, copies are passed on to every hand, but never last, copies are all worth the same. Originals land in few hands. If you haven't found your purpose what are you waiting for? I often regard dreams and wishes different. For me a wish is my impossibility that I'm okay with (Like dreaming of dating my favourite musician, or flying, or wishing I could hear someone's thoughts), they bring out the fun, humourous characters in me. Dreaming is where I find my possibility, where things are more real, that happen in reality. Yes I have entered for competitions, no haven't won them all. But that is the best phase, you prepare as though your life depends on it, you get rejected, but within that you get improvement, you start to realise that it is preperation. Remember before you go out there to perform, you practise many times only for one show. So don't let three rejections make you lose your purpose, keep your eyeball on the line. Keep on aiming, be glad you missing, because you correct yourself for the next move, and soon you will be scoring. You don't just learn for your own purpose, you learn to teach, to couch, to guide. What is your purpose? What are you doing with it? If you don't have one, what are you waiting for?

Mothers Day

Today is mothers day, these strong beautiful human beings are being spoilt today. We cheris and love them most, we might not tell them by day, but today is the day to actually show them how much they mean to us. We don't just wish those who gave birth to us but to those many women in the world. As we are rejoice, some people are looking back to what was, we do not just celebrate to those who are alive, but to those we once shared memories with. There are people who don't have mothers and that wish for a hour to spend with them. It is an eye opening to those who have mothers, that you must start appreciating that woman. Some don't even know how it is to have a mother, but we are in a society where we are raised by our aunts, by our grandmothers, by gardians, even them are our moms and we must show them how much they add a value to our lives. There are parents who are watching as other children hug and kiss their mothers, for they don't have kids of their own, some have medical conditions, some are just not mothers yet and some lost their kids to death. Other woman's kids ran away from home, they still have hope that they will return, even those woman are our mothers too. This day is to celebrate and enjoy. It means more, for we are talking about our heroes, a person who would jump at anything to save you. A person who loves you dearly, a person who watches you make your own mistakes in life, but are there to correct and guide you. I'm talking about a person who wakes up every morning to put bread on the table, a person who provides of which is more than giving but with a pure heart. A person who is hurting and is able to smile at you, a person who droped you at school when you were young and went on their knees just to give you a hug and a kiss, not caring whether they're still going to work. Who held you at night when you had nightmares. Who is able to give you tough love. Happy Mothers Day to you dear beloved. There are many songs we dedicate to you about a woman, a mother and a friend. Mothers are brave enough to let their children to go and discover the world, watches you as you fall, as you rise and as you achieve. They are proud even if you fail to score. Moms hate to see their kids cry, but they prefare that they cry than to hold pain in, nothing kills them more than the silence of their kids. Mothers are our energy, our water, our air. They are natural, never do we pretend when they are near. We indeed do love you mothers of the world. And we shall forever need them, even thou we don't show it at times, they stay close, and live in our hearts. Happy Mothers Day!

A girl like me

The fact that a girl like me comes from a small town in EC and have tasted the big cities of this continent means something. The fact that a girl like me has seen herself in a magazine article, no matter how small it was, shows decication and determination. The fact that a girl like me is able to stand infront of a crowed and recite a poem means there is after a worrior inside me, a brave soul. The fact that a girl like me has passion to write SA stories, they raw truth, I give facts, motions and show compassion, I might not solve x, but I do show the formula for it. That fact that a girl like me knows how to spare moments, knows how to enjoy good ones, tries to deal with bad one shows I take note to life. The fact that a girl like has goals to score, tells that I do play well in this field, I'm the champion but I am a participater, I don't warm the bench, I strive. The fact that a girl like me is raised by brave human beings, braught up by a single mom, who has a backbone, who would jump at anything to save me, tells that I am blessed. That fact that a girl like me is only at her teens but already making a difference, shows what leaders we will be having tomorrow. So tell me what fact is about you? That fact that a girl/guy like is.