STANZAS, SCENES & CHAPTERS

  I I have a fair idea of how the world bares its teeth at failure yet pops champagne to success when you finally rise. Of how suffering earns little sympathy, but prosperity suddenly attracts investigators.... everyone wanting to trace the source of your shine. Then, without warning, doors that once swallowed keys and slammed in your face now cough out welcomes. Drinking glasses gossip. Walls that ignored your knock learn your name by heart. I have a fair idea.   II I have a fair idea of laughter that leaks betrayal. Of praise rehearsed before mirrors, pressed like Sunday fugu, kaba and slit, shouted boldly in your presence and folded behind your back like collapsible chair. Smiles that arrive authentic and depart counterfeit. Smiles that clap in careful sycophancy, counting your steps as you climb the stairs of uncertainty, awaiting your big fall!! I have a fair idea.   III I have a fair idea of the day my body becomes motionless....

  Always in a hurry!! Feet speaking faster than the heart. Running as if tomorrow has a whistle and today is already being fined. He overtakes traffic lights, argues with junctions, insults roundabouts for delaying destiny. He pushes his way out of church before the final Amen settles, because even God must understand he is in a hurry. Hurry to where? Last to enter the meeting, first to vanish from it. Body present, soul already halfway home. He nods at discussions his mind did not attend. Always in a hurry.  He walks like a scooter under his heels! It is as though he is in a marathon contest with the winds of the world In a hurry to build mansions his pockets protest against. In a hurry to chauffeur wagons whose engines drink salaries. He eats fast, prays fast, loves fast, lives as if life is a queue he is desperate to escape. He hurries, hurries, hurries, just to arrive at the one place that does not rush anyone. Six feet under. No traffic! No...