Mt Kilimanjaro, July 2015 — The Last Water Point. Picture by Kathleen Ndongmo

There is…

There is a cry…. a cry for peace; a peace so overwhelming, that it takes over and becomes the essence of life for the living. — Kathleen Ndongmo

There is a searing pain that comes with the knowledge that you have lost yourself, even if it be temporarily. There is a destitution that’s installed when reality hits you that sometimes, water is thicker than blood. There is a helplessness that dawns when you awake and realise — after you have slept it off — that no matter what you do, and no matter how much you try to do, your doings will come to nought. There is a loneliness, always uninvited, that arrives nonetheless when you think you found a friend, only to realise they never found you friend enough. There is a place so dark it attracts you like a moth to a flame, like a magnet to metal telling you it has control over your mind; it laughs hysterically behind, around, in front of, besides you. There is a saying, that there is a saying that is supposed to inspire you out of your misery but miserability is you and the saying is now just a saying. There is a weight, that is invisible, it’s burden so heavy, so unparalleled that anyone, anywhere can see it.

Yet there is a time.

There is a passing of the hour that gives meaning to its minutes, that means it may be time. There is a flatness that rocks the senses and processes the thoughts, filtering them even if a bit dysfunctionally. There is a need, a need … so basic, so affirming, so deep — a need to need practically. There is a truth, easy to deny, difficult to accept that puts the self into a seat of endless question, of fruitless answer. There is a preciousness that conquers every pride when pride becomes promise. There is a kick, of an epic scale — so physical, so sharp, it jolts your unwillingness like it owns your anatomy, grips your psyche; simply refuses to let go no matter how much you protest. There is a you, a you that you never knew, that puts on a superhero cape, lands on your mental runway, braces itself for every turbulence and resists all deliberate crash efforts by you. There is a struggle, so ungodly in its form that it threatens to take you down into the unending darkness you desperately want to end.

Yet there is a break.

There is a light, that streams into your despair when you turn towards nothing and find that there is something which isn’t just anything. There is a song, that begins from deep within your soul, threatening to increase in loudness just as you refuse to sing it, that turns into a lullaby — fading the darkness — cradling your intense fragility. There is a stranger, who from nowhere appears and sits atop your grief, who shouldn’t understand it, yet surprisingly understands; who shouldn’t know, but who has experienced, who shouldn’t care, and cares like a trust fund, they turn into a shelter where there is no other. There is a piece of the complicated puzzle, a long lost niddle in a haystack, that — like some unbelievable miracle — turns up when your need is high and your faith is splintered. There is an acceptance of all things that happen even though they shouldn’t happen to people like us, and now, they have happened after all.

Yet it is there.

It is there that there is a salvation because there is a purpose… and there is a purpose because there is a life…and there is a life because there is a death… and there is a death because there is a resurrection.

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PS: To @subomiplumptre who went out of her way for me during this ‘dark’ time, THANK YOU for being that stranger. May life give you more than I will ever receive.

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