Braille… Poem by Merlin Mwaura

I have a thing to say,
I don’t how to say it…
It is about a thing most delicate.

Where in life I’ve made some difference,
Even when the difference lies in how a friend smiles,
What knowledge I have made known…
I am yet to be what I am supposed to be.

There are things we do,
Those that are meant for the heart,
And it grows and glows because of it.
I know of things that cannot be writ…
That cannot be said,
Those that just are within life’s pages…
An’ while turned,
Can be read even by the most blind of us,
The dumb an’ deaf….
Those of us, who do not listen,
For they cannot or choose not to.

I have had a passion for such things,
Maybe even those who know me can attest to it,
I have not traveled the world much,
Neither have I been to the sacred places I relish seeing…
I have however seen marvelous things in peoples’ eyes,
The lips seem like enchanting strips for speech…
I have marveled at the form of women,
An’ now… only recently at my own form.

I feel the air, an’ I breathe it more fervently,
I cannot tell you what this feels like,
Only that it’s life…
I yearn for a kiss from one I am grateful for,
But I can only wait, an’ there are no words to say what I mean…
I only know, what I can do…
An’ that it can be done not by wanting it…
But by knowing it.

I read this feelings in me…
Those of your eyes,
Those of us breathing…
It is not like a song..
It is deeper than a song.
But I know it’s meaning…
An’ I read it like Braille.