three poems
by T. Vundi Mwilu
if my walls could tell,
they’d speak of ceramic tiles,
cold and unyielding against my trembling spine,
of how the bathroom mirror stretches out the miles.
Between the face I wear and the one that was once mine,
they’ve seen the way the light dies underneath the door.
While I am anchored here, too heavy now to rise,
tracing the patterns on the cold and silent floor.
With salt and hollow shadows deep within my eyes.
These same walls would recount the muffled sound,
of a voice that’s broken, whispered to the air.
Of a grief so heavy it is rooted in the ground,
leaving only echoes of an eidolon standing there.
They’ve watched the way I lean against the wooden grain,
a secret kept in private behind a rusted lock.
The only witnesses the rising of the rain,
and the steady, lonely ticking of the internal clock.
If my walls could tell what they have seen to this day,
they’d shout until the heavens heard the crying of the soul.
Until the very sun chased the silver mist away,
and the world stepped in to make its broken son feel whole.
They would testify to the loneliness they’ve kept,
To the strength it takes to simply breathe and to simply be.
Keeping a record of every tear that these four corners swept,
in the quiet sacred chapel of this misery.
DROWNING
My left hand forward,
My right hand beating backwards.
Pushing against a tide I do not understand,
My legs fighting currents that I’ve never felt.
Because, honestly, I have never been to the sea.
I do not know how to swim in these depths,
I do not know how to float and so I begin to sink.
My left-hand strains upward,
I grasp for a rescue that never arrives.
My legs shiver in the cold,
I no longer see the light.
Drowning!!
But what brought me to the sea,
When I’ve never learned how to swim?
TODAY, I ACCEPT
I have kept my door wide ajar,
hoping that you were going to return.
That you were in a voyage so far.
Even though I have you in the urn.
I had sworn never to go out,
and let the sun touch me.
Feel the breeze and witness the sprout,
whilst I sip my favorite tea.
I locked myself in and I cried,
and asked God that I follow.
To take myself I tried,
for I was feeling hollow.
But today, today I accept,
that you went with the setting sun.
And that forever you slept,
and life is not yet done.
Today I will shut the door,
and I will walk to the sea.
I will shop at the store,
and set my soul free.
Photo of T. Vundi Mwilu
BIO: T. Vundi Mwilu is a young Kenyan writer and poet living in Nairobi, Kenya. His works draws from personal and philosophical reflections navigating the tension between loss and transformation. Vundi is currently working on his debut poetry collections on death, grief and recovery. He's works have appeared on Phil Lit Journal and AfriHill Press.