On the Road again

I am a runner,

I run from everything; even from myself

And I also run to everything…

I am always running;

From reality to illusion; and back again

From love to hate; and the other way round

From lust to ecstasy; and to something called love

I am a runner

I was born this way

I run from East to West. North to South.

 

The other day, I stopped at a crossroad.

I wanted to stop running.

But then … but then my legs itched

Because I could not stop

I had to keep running

 

And now here I am

Running from me to you

Happily

Do you think I will last with you?

Or soon I will be on the road again…running

Because I am a runner!

 

I am a beggar (please toss a coin in my faded bowl)

You see the beggar sitted by the corner; down the street you use every day as you walk home. And each day, each moment, as you approach, you know her eyes are on you. But in all this time you haven’t brought yourself to return her gaze.

Are you afraid to see yourself in her pitiful eyes? To see that just like her, you are in need… Are you afraid to help her because, after all, you cannot save the whole world on your own?  Are you afraid because you pity her; and feel guilty that you actually pity another human being? Is it why you prefer to look away?

Would it prick your conscience if you would know that she genuinely needs help? Every day she sits there; trying hard to look into your eyes…to attract your gaze. Do you blame her for her neediness? Silently saying that life is unfair, and that maybe she does not deserve to suffer so much?

I am the beggar. You pretend not to see me; every single day you walk home down the street. I am always there-sitted at my corner; my home. I have begged for many years. But every time you pass me, you look aside. You pretend you can’t see me. You pretend I don’t exist, but you know I do.

My eyes, like my hand is stretched out. Please toss a coin in my faded bowl. Soothe this pain I feel. Here in my heart.

You don’t give it a second thought. I watch you walk away; you do not steal a glance my way; you leave me in pain; my hand stretched forth

I do not feel shame; looking into your eyes to beg; to ask your help; because, because right now that’s all I can do-beg. But your gaze. You are determined it cannot meet mine. It should not meet mine.

I am a beggar; I am begging, please help me. I am in pain. Toss a coin in my faded bowl. Do not just walk away, because this overstretched hand is long; it could trip you; and you might fall. Or maybe my eyes; these eyes filled with pain; they might haunt you. And you might get a sleepless night.

*The beggar’s pleas are falling on deaf ears*

My crying is turning into a song. A sad song. A dirge; but let’s say any music should soothe the troubled soul. Maybe my music will hold your attention. I am trying to smile; so that you don’t see the pain in my eyes; so that you see the sincerity of my begging hand.

But no, you are scratching your head; and you walk away, faster, did my music pain your heart? Was it too sincere? Did you for a moment listen to your heart? Did your heart tell you that my faded bowl needs your coins? And yet you walk away; my song is unfinished…

A teardrop. It falls on my empty bowl; my overstretched hand, seeking love, dries up the teardrop; the skin on my face is cracked; just like my cracked hand.

In this moment of pain; let me wipe the tears from eyes; because I can’t see you clearly; as you suddenly turn around to look at me.

I am a beggar. Please toss a coin in my faded bowl.

The thing about coincidences (A random post about a miracle)

And so Lucy tells me that a friend of hers, Sam, likes my blog; he says that I am good at what I do; and I am all feeling blessed that I have touched someone’s Soul…

Let me take you back a little. When my friend, X was admitted in a psychiatric hospital and she needed to communicate with her friends (they didn’t allow phones in the hospital), it happened that Sam was also in the hospital, having taken a loved one there. So my friend X gives Sam my number and a few of her pals and Sam calls us.

From that instance, once in a while, I and Sam text each other to find out how the other is fairing on. I ask how his loved one is doing and he also asks how my friend is doing, stuff like that…

Back to the present: So, Lucy tells me that a friend of hers called Sam has told her that he likes my blog. By the way, until this time, Sam did not know my second name.

A very random conversation, she tells me how it went, “…he sent me a text and he asks that I check out a certain blog, and he sent the link www.elizabethombati.wordpress.com,” so Lucy goes, “I am with Liz at University…”

 Back to my story: As Lucy keeps mentioning Sam, at the back of my head is a thought, could it be the same Sam I chat with sometime? But then I brush it aside and as anyone else could imagine, there are a million ‘Sam’ in Kenya! So I do not mention it.

It just happens that it is the same Sam. We are both amazed at the turn of events. Lucy says it is such a small world; I am lost for words; I cannot explain how it is that things can so happen…

I’m now off to hear people ‘s coincidence stories.

Some say that actually these are miracles; that the gods are talking to us;

That nature is drawing us to something we might be missing;

Miracles, miracles and more miracles; a nice one for the day, it actually got me creative; I did a blog post.

NB: I and Sam haven’t met in person. Not as yet.