Thoughts and Other Things

The year is at its end and many are reflecting on lessons learned in the year. One of the most significant things I've learnt this year is the value of silence and solitude. I've learnt to grow fond of times alone when I get to love, appreciate and accept the person that God created me to be. It is then that I am not easily moved when others judge, criticize or look down on me. This has caused me to realize just why we fall prey to low self-esteem as teenagers, because so much of our time is spent around others, and many a times we compare ourselves to these others we spend time with. We find that we aren’t thin enough, not beautiful enough, not ‘cool’ enough, if they still use that as an excuse. We then grow to alter ourselves, despise ourselves and look down upon our very self because we don’t know ourselves very well, if we did, we’d never do anything to change us. You’d love you if you spent more time with you. If you asked God more what he thought of you than the magazin

I was at that park of mine the other day, again pouring my heart out to God through a piece of paper, that’s what poetry is to me. I was seated comfortably in Bruno when a man, younger than my father, but old, came around. Observing his car, I realized he was the guy who worked here monitoring the place. He was with his son so I didn’t assume any funny business. After greeting me in a respectable manner, he inquired if I was studying, seeing that I was writing. When I negated, a worried look masked his face. He then asked what it was that I was writing, going on to say he didn’t mean to intrude but was just wondering. I explained myself. He did too, saying he was worried I was writing a suicide note. I laughed. It had never crossed my mind, mingled as my emotions were. He gave me all his reasons to say so, and I understood. Here’s a young (beautiful, hehe) lady sitting alone at a park near a nearly overflowing dam writing on an exam pad. I would have worried too, but I don’t think I w

Growing up It’s Sunday afternoon, after another busy day at ‘work’. I’m reading another Karen Kingsbury novel at the caravan park overlooking the dam. The peace that this place gives me is one I cannot put down in words. Well it’s not the place per say, but the alone time with my Prince of peace. It’s my new hiding place, my mountain of solitude. So you can imagine the look on my face when I see my dad’s beat-up Isuzu bakkie making the curve towards the gate. The curses of living in a small town. They drive up to where I’m parked and make small talk. My dad, understanding my need for time alone, drives my sisters to the play area. She jumps off and heads for the swings, he slowly follows behind. I smile, realizing how the years are catching up with him. A young white boy decides to join them and dad takes turns pushing them. They squeal with joy and excitement, mixed with a little fear the higher and higher they go. I look on with envy, wishing that I too could forget all my worries

You waited Like a husband waiting for his adulterous wife, alone in the night, awaiting her return. Harassed and abused by thoughts of what she might be doing and with who. His heart beats with the rhythm of the clock’s hand and he wrestles with the idea of sleep because he knows she’ll return, this is where she calls home. She may find pleasure in other hands and hearts, but only he provides her the place of rest, he is her home. And indeed I did return. But unlike him, you waited not with fists of anger and words of rage, you waited with a loving and forgiving heart. You asked me no questions, you knew I would lie. You didn’t accuse me of anything, my guilt was evident. I had prepared a few words on my way back, excuses and accusations, all exaggerations rooted in rebellion. But they all vanished when I met your eyes. You said nothing, but I could read the pain and hurt you were harbouring in your heart. What could you possibly not give me that I would run out on you and look fo