Give us us free!
Whence came the word struggle?
Whence came the word pain?
Whence came the word abuse?
Whence came the word exploitation?

…Freedom…freedom!
What is it, where is it…. how do we find it…how do i find it?
What is it worth…a mans life…two…maybe three..perhaps a million?

Is it an illusion, a carrot dangling on a stick for abused and abusers alike…who is happy then? Is she happy? is he happy? are they happy?…am i happy?

What does it mean to be free?…to feel free….
What do we fight for?…what do we die for?….
Does it make sense…to want to be free i mean.
Does it make sense if the comprehension of that state, that…that freedom elludes us…elludes me…
What then, is living…what then is life without freedom?

Welcome to Afrika…welcome to my world…

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

Hear us…listen…listen before its too late!
Listen to me…listen to the story of a mother with no milk left to sustain her baby!
Listen to me…listen to the story of a babe with no strength left to suckle from a barren breast!
Listen to me…listen to a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a niece, a nephew…listen to the story of how ‘I’ have become the last one to bear my family name!

Hear us…act…act before its too late!
Drop the guns! It is not the bullets that will help us now!
Less talk, less promises! It is ‘they’ that give ‘you’ the time to ‘delay’…time that sees more silenced…time that sees more six feet under!
Do not tell me to hope! That, I already have! Give me confidence…give me something tangible to hold on to! Anything but this…anything but empty words!

We are the silenced ones…but we are a majority!
We are the silenced ones…but we are the future…your future…our future!
Hear us…listen…listen before it is too late!
Hear us…act…act before its too late…

Today, I remember Hassan.
Today…I remember Hashy.
Today, I remember to be brave, to let the tears roll, to let my hands shake, and to accept I am only human,
Today, I remember to let my heart feel, let it speak…let it beat…even if painfully…to what I know is real in this life…not that which I try to pretend matters.
Today, I remember that I am small, delicate and have a fleeting life that comes with no guarantee.
Today, I remember that there is more…much much more to life than I have ever given myself the chance to see,

Today, I remember to remember Hassan, to remember Hashy,
To remember that I can make the choice to get out of bed for the right reasons…the reasons that matter…the reasons rooted in my heart…rooted in truth.
Today, I remember to be man enough to listen, to hear, to feel…to live, to love, to step up and BE…
Today I remember to send my roses before its too late for the ones that matter to smell them…for the ones that deserve them to know that they do…

Today, I cry and I ask myself…Is this what it takes to remember life…to remember what matters…to get the courage to face me?
Today…well, today… I remember to remember a lil brother, a best friend, a confidante…a superstar,
Today…and everyday…I remember to remember Hassan, to remember Hashy…To remember that I can still make you proud lil bro…
Today, I pray for him, for I and for us…
Today, I hope I can, I hope WE can…I hope we can be brave enough to make him smile…
Be brave enough to embrace the treasures life has in store for us…
Today, I realize I am still breathing…my heart is still beating…that I can still make a difference…
Remember to remember Hashy…to remember Hassan…remember to remember and live out what matters…

Love you like no other lil one…Rest Easy…You live on in my heart…OUR hearts.

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

Does familiarity breed contempt?
Does ME knowing YOU more tire me…exhaust you?
Does it all make me…love you a lil less…make your love for me falter…by just that much?
Does it eat away at my heart…distort the rhythm that beats in tandem with your heart?
I have to ask…one question…one thought…I wonder!
Is it at all possible to be familiar with you…
Is it ever possible to exhaust a treasure house of surprises as infinite as yours?
Ma petite Belle, how could I…how should I…
Is it ever possible to love you a little less my love…will that ever be…

(Maliq Walter Muro ©)

To live is to love, for what else is life worth?

What is life to a dazzling butterfly that has just emerged from its chrysalis and has but one gay hour to live and love?

What is life to the colorful songbird as it sits on a meticulously chosen branch composing verse after verse to woe that special other?

What is life to the handsome man who has riches beyond our wildest dreams, but a heart with no partner to beat a rhythm with?

What is life to the famous, the powerful, the beggars, the downtrodden, the belittled, the patronized…the women and men that share the life force of mother earth?

Indeed, what is life, if not to live and to love?

Shun fear….go ahead, try it…live gaily and love passionately,

For there is no living without loving

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

Guns firing…Rat tat tat tat…the music of AK-47’s…familiar now…so familiar it’s a wonder people still remember what the song of a robin sounds like.

Boom, bam, boom…the lords of war are gleeful…boom, bam, boom…a whole 6 months worth of harvest becomes a glaring crater…Rat tat tat tat…the music plays…the never ending melody that is death and war…it calls…it beckons…it welcomes…

Boom, bam, boom…an aspiring mother strains…beads of sweat…salty droplets of it flowing over taught, stressed, coffee colored skin…drip, drop, drip…’push!’…’harder!’, they say…’faster!’…Rat tat tat tat…a scream of agony…pain…all inter-laced into one packet…a fast food pain product with the word ‘labor’ stamped on it…

Visions of white…an old, tired, defeated and dirty type of white…a red cross that is no longer red…a nurse’s face that has long lost…forsaken even…the ability to smile…’it’s a boy’…no excitement in the voice…resigned…a plain matter-of-fact, all business, I-am-telling-you-so type of voice.

‘A curse..I must get away…get HIM away from here!’…the fear, the very real fear a mother feels for a child…a male child…again and again, her mind screams…the words…the mantra…the devil that is a recruiter of child soldiers…baby soldiers…a minion of the lords of war…the gleeful, happy, delighted and most welcoming lords of war…’straight from the womb, into the fire, straight from the womb, into the fire…’

Rat tat tat tat…louder now…boom, bam, boom…more destructive than ever…its been 8 years now…a mother long forgotten, a father never seen…concepts of family never taught, never were, never are…and never will be…

Rat tat tat tat…an AK 47  sings in an 8 year old’s hands…Rat tat tat tat…soul mates for life now…Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat…’straight from the womb, into the fire’…Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat click-click…a fight to be fought to the end…until the bullets run out…until the baby fingers have no strength left to pull the adult trigger…until the RIGHT people, at a time that has, is and will NEVER be right, start to ask the RIGHT questions…take the RIGHT actions…Rat tat tat tat…the song of death continues…Rat tat tat tat!

(Maliq Walter Muro ©)

“When a man fails once, he must push harder.
When that man fails twice, he has to re-think his strategy.
However, when that man fails again…and again…and again…well, then its time for some big honest questions!”

(Maliq W Muro ©)

Your name should have meant ‘dazzling smile’,
For your smile of smiles brings about the redefinition of the term itself.
The exquisiteness and utter perfection of your smile could never fail to bring about the spontaneous electrical thrill to a viewer of it extending all the way down to the centre of his very being,
Your smile identifies your beauty as readily as the multicolored plumes identify a peacock,
As readily as the soft delicate petals identify a flower,
As well as the intricate taste of sweetness identifies honey.
Your smile brings to shame the very beauty of a sunset over a dazzling ocean,
Brings about shame to the beauty of the sunrise at dawn, and renders all else previously defined as beautiful dull when placed next to it.
All these, are but a small percentage of what a smile as exquisite as yours can do,
Keep smiling!

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

Lying in bed with her soul so tortured,
She looks like a rose stripped off its petals,
Like a beautiful smile without dimples,
Like a once flamboyant bird captured.
Her heart cries for love for it is ruptured,
Her agony, with every beat triples,
Her eyes, with every sob, fill with ripples.
Her painful heart bleeds, for it is punctured.
Once again, love is the culprit to blame.
It is the rogue that plays with people’s hearts,
The one enemy with a blow that hurts,
The one thief that cannot be put to shame.
Love has truly established worldwide fame,
Not for its good, but for pain it creates.

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

One may deduce that the bringing into reality of one’s goals and aims promotes satisfaction.
This deduction proves fraud.

For I have clambered up the ladder of academic achievement step by step until the very summit of it.
By this, my mother and others I have induced pride in me.

I have endeavored hard to overcome, topple, or come to par with my contenders in sports, and in that I have made considerable progress.
By this, I have brought a smile to my old man’s face and others like him.

I have charted and brought to light as much of life as I should have as yet.
By this, I have acquired numerous comrades and added immensely to invaluable experience.

All that I have done, or so, society dictates, should make for a content being.
My very soul disagrees, for I am a whirlwind of turbulent, violent emotions all imploding at the centre of my innermost being, threatening to reduce me to mere dust!

I am…but unsatisfied…

(Maliq Walter Muro©)