Special

This was not meant to be a poem. I just thought to write down a few lines on the subject. What does “Special” mean to you. Share with us in the comments section.

Love. Zee

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Special is good. Special is different.
Special is how it feels,
On an anniversary dinner night.

When your best friend says, “I love you.”
And when they don’t,
You believe, because, they are special too.

Your eyes betray your mutual truths.
The glassy transparency of it
Is clear for all to see.

Special is sad, sometimes, too.
Special is how you don’t want to feel,
Who you don’t want to be, when

Special means trouble. Crisis. Duty –
“Lord, let this cup pass, please”
“Yes, not Your will but mine.”

Special means rejection.
A walk in the dark.
Until you finally accept your truth.

Special is patient endurance,
A cycle of raised hopes
And dashed expectations.

Special is confusion. Desperation.
“Lord, please take him away.”
“Let him just die, please.”

Special is living a lie. Denial –
“This is not my portion, Lord,
You know I deserve better.”

Special means groping in the dark – a dead end.
The miracle might never come,
No matter how hard you pray.

Special is crying behind closed doors.
You seek to understand.
You seek to be understood.

Special is candor – you finally accept.
It’s a chance to teach –
To teach your  reality.

Special means loving,
Without expecting anything back.
No, not in the way you’d expect.

Special means ups and Down’s – a rollercoaster ride.
Sometimes you can fix it.
Sometimes you can heal.

Special is lonely. Special is fighting.
A cause not yours.
A cause all yours.

Special is a chance at learning.
New ways, new things.
You gamble too, take your chances.

With special, sight isn’t necessarily vision
And muteness might not translate
To being without voice.

Even the hard of hearing
Still keep their ears close to the ground.
It’s all in how you perceive your curve-ball.

Special breeds gratitude.
Not because they’re lesser humans but
Because you can be more humane.

Special is an open heart, pun intended or not.
Sometimes, they’re the most generous,
That you’ll ever find.

Special is where a small success
Is a big victory.
Not spectacular, true, but it’s all they live for.

Special sees not color. Special sees no status.
Special is all around you.
It’s what this is all about.

Friendship

A rmed with nothing but love in their hearts
M en of little reckon dare us to conquer our hate and prejudice
I lls that threaten to mar us to extinction
T hese malignancies must like a gangrene be severed, or
Y ank us off life, they will.

Enemy Within

He is the worst one
The enemy from within
That hones his evil craft
Under our very noses

He’s of the worst kind
Our friendly foe
Who steals off our innocence
Under cover of night

Our trusting kin
Slumber and smile
What ignorance!
How gullible!

While you scar our bodies
Our minds too
Rendering us numb
How can we forget?

You are the one
That you pretend
To shield us from –
What hypocrisy!

You taught us that
The world was evil
Who could have known
The world was you!

PS: I’ve heard some terrible stories in recent times that I cannot even retell on this page. There’s a lot going on now, when it comes to child sexual abuse. What we hear sometimes. …. is really scary. Why, even parents! Our children can’t run out of this world now, can they?👫

The Outsider Inside

My guest for today is Sandra Oyeku. Sandra resides in Australia, where she is a teacher. She is highly skilled in working with children, something she has been doing for almost a decade.

Sandra is fascinated by the saintliness of a child’s mind yet acknowledges that this innocence doesn’t remain for long, as life quickly starts to teach, to write….and the reality is very different.

I find this piece to be a mixture of the child’s fantasies and the rude reality, which many of us can identify with.

Enjoy.


The Outsider Inside

“Tabula rasa!”
Many would utter
At birth – the way the mind is –
A clean slate with no shades

But these blue skies with no greys
Looking down on pastures –
Dying wilting pastures
Ration what I have to feed on

They gently sap the life in me
Because I – I am right in their midst.
I’m no coward, yet I cower
How long will this servitude be?

Still, I, full of the sun, give smiles
Bountiful, blessed and bright
Need to keep shining my light
That is my demeanour, banner and pledge

So whatever is, whatever comes
I remain grateful
For my purpose I’ll still be thankful
Until all will be again evergreen

As much as hope shall within me glean
I look outside of me
To find me everywhere
And yet still here

Birth Of The Dawn…..by Gift Dimgba Mamre

I’m pleased to share this next post with you, written by my dear friend Gift Dimgba Mamre. Gift is positive, with a vivaciousness that is very contagious. This piece highlights her personal struggles and an affirmation of her inmost desires. She speaks as if she has already received and that, my friend, is faith. Enjoy.

Birth Of The Dawn

In the birth of dawn,
With epitome of hope piled
I humbly sit and wait
My forthcoming child.

To this unborn one
From now and times to come
With happiness, and wisdom
I foresee a child with fun

To nourish his curious mind
And knowledge, help to find
I’ll always read with you,
Show you things I never knew

With you, I’ll never be sad
My moon-pie and precious lad
I have no fear, a mum to be,
My special kid, I can’t wait to see.

amanda 1 - karenard.com

The Meter, The Measure

A hill is a hill
Because the valley exists
But for low plains
The highlands would deny their name
I am tall
For the reason that you are short
The blackness of me indistinct
If you weren’t so white
We must coexist
Else be nonexistent
True identities fade
Where interdependence is ignored
You are my yardstick
Much as I must be the measure
The meter by which you must shine
That shine that’s so divine

More Than Death

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The things I fear
More than death:

In the end,
Not to have lived at all

For my young ‘uns
That they be not robbed of innocence
Ere they grasp
The ‘What,’ ‘When,’ Why’ and ‘How’

Of my Maker
That my name be found not
In His Book of Life

Oh, these things, I fear
Much more than life itself
Or even the absence of it