Dear Dearest

When you feel stranded at crossroads, unsure of your next step, longing for my return, weep not my dear one, for with great delicacy I was lifted offground, carried like a baby to a world of roses- roses without thorns. . .


And when those days occur, those awful days you feel those emotional strains brush your heart with rage, cutting deeper and deeper, melting you like butter, when you feel perhaps you can never fall in love, or you can’t even enjoy love itself without a certain unconsciousness of mind, when you feel you have never known love that has not betrayed you, when you feel it’s you who is said to adhere to melancholy,

when you feel there’s no romance in your life that seems to be on the ledge, with no one to talk you down and tuck you in bed, when you feel the sorrows society told you to drown by the pond have learnt to swim and are now wading to your direction to marry your heart, when you feel humanity has made a love story out of your tragedy, when you feel taking control of your life again is akin to driving the proverbial bus whose passengers include the village mad man, the local night-runner, the suave pick-pocket, the self-declared masochist and many other variants of deviant personalities majority of whom are hardly even aware of their destination but keep screaming incoherent instructions to the driver on how to steer the bus, when you feel denied, rejected, cast into a pot of forgetfulness, depressed, haunted by memories from your past, betrayed, when you feel there’s no need in believing in people anymore, and that you had been looking upto the wrong heroes, or you had been looking for actors and heroes in places where they could not possibly be found, when, in that moment of despair you feel you’re becoming closer to the fatal mistake of losing faith in people and in the possibilities of truth and beauty and ideals in a world where people are daily struggling for bread and water, when you feel, just like the human body itself, the people around you would rather show you false positives (the false pain of an aching arm, which is actually a sign of heart trouble) than do away with the sensors all together, when you feel yourself coiled in a ball of shame, ashamed of yourself, struggling so much getting nothing done; running so fast and getting nowhere in particular; picking up so much, keeping nothing; so full and yet so empty, when you feel stranded at crossroads, unsure of your next step, longing for my return, weep not my dear one, for with great delicacy I was lifted offground, carried like a baby to a world of roses- roses without thorns. I was pampered like an only child, dusted till I shone like china. Kindly take heart and embrace yourself, stop playing by the pool of regrets, bearing in mind nothing we indulge in will ever be perfect. It’s supposed to have flaws so that we can learn and grow from them.

When those days occur, those terrible days you feel defeated, beaten and pounded by life’s heavy fists, maintain your ground dear one, and when need occurs to fight back, pick your fights, in some walk away for there are times when victory is defeat and defeat is victory.

When survival for the fittest has been passed as the law on earth, use your brains and muscles as well. No choices. Stop licking your wounds. I’m deeply sorry, I didn’t mean to draw blood from the wells of your soul. Death called and I had to answer.

Feel proud of me. I just wanted to be part of the chosen few, those few who believed in equality and justice for all. It came with a price, and am glad I served my purpose well. But again, if everything went according to plan, wouldn’t life be so boring? Enough with the mourning, you’ve sung enough dirges already.

With confidence, feel free to dry your tears dear one. Don’t just sit there and let spiders build webs on your energies, let the weeds not grow on your potential, leaving your talents to gather dust and rust, sending your creative mind to the damp yard; please DON’T!

I’m always watching from above, waiting on you, for someday, someday you will join me and together we will breathe the fragrance of roses seeping through the fresh air, pollution being an uknown ogre here! And I can’t wait too for the wonder in your face dear one, when you’ll ask yourself in awe, what it was that had made you cling to that rough, stony world that long.

What wonders abound in this paradise!

Don’t forget to keep away from all those things which prevent you from loving, and love those things that make it possible for you to love freely. Defy social laws, just like the cactus, a proud owner of a will, power and strength- will to be against non-existence, power to live amidst death, strength to go against all odds, strength amidst all weakness.

For once in a while, life puts on big gloves stuffed with dried cement- and clean knocks us out! What you must do is get up, bloodied, battered but not beaten- and keep swinging.

Till we meet again, dear one.

(The departed speak of life after death)


Author: Wendo Kenyanito

In this quiet church of writing, i say Amen.

21 thoughts on “Dear Dearest”

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