I wake up late a lot of mornings,
And those mornings are intense.
I have to shower like the water is fire,
And brush like the toothpaste is poison,
I have to eat like I’m eating rat heads,
And I burn my tongue drinking tea (that is lacking sugar).
I have to go to work with a half-done shirt,
My zipper is still open, and my socks don’t match,
I go to work contemplating last night’s events,
And talk to my colleagues mechanically.
I have to report some findings that I somehow did,
Efficiently too so I actually get paid,
I head back home and promise tomorrow will be different,
And yet, the next day starts late.
We wake up to life late some lifetimes,
And those lifetimes are intense.
We receive knowledge like its flame that will burn out,
And we prepare words like we’re about to attack,
We consume knowledge for material needs,
And get burned when it is used against us.
We leave our personal lives undone,
In pursuit of seemingly bigger, seemingly more important benefits,
We make important everyone but ourselves,
And talk to the person within mechanically.
We sometimes report to life and tell it we did things,
And we try to do it in a materially efficient way,
But when we retire at night and think about the world tomorrow,
Do we see if we have grown?
We’ve built governments, economies, and social benefits,
We’ve built what we love calling a modern society,
Yet in all the rush for expertise and qualifications,
Do we know where we are going?
To reflect on the past gives us direction for the future even though we may not know what the future brings. Sometimes its enough to know that we are moving somewhere as oppose to standing still.
p.s This is a great piece
One more great piece…mzee.
Everyone needs to take a step back and assess how we go about our daily lives…constantly running (I do the same).
PS: you love the word ‘efficient’
We have some talent around here, eeh? Noma. Keep them poems coming!
Is it just me, or every youth out there seems to be going through these uncertainties at some point? After graduation, when looking for a job… Like, what’s next? Where the hell are we going?
Seems like everyone is struggling to find that purpose in (one’s) life…
for some reason, this is among my favorite lines on this great poem “I head back home and promise tomorrow will be different,
And yet, the next day starts late”..