Tears of an Orphan

a Wiseman once said that every building with eventually fall

that didn’t sound right to me because ever since I was a child  

I was always building something

whether it’s a character, career or possibly a mind-set my hands were always busy

I remember on my mother’s funeral

I was building a different impression

When everyone was crying for the loss I was mostly silent

Trying to make sense of how a woman can build a healthy boy then live him without saying goodbye

a dawn of constructing the future came to me as new as the baby’s tongue

hoping to remain strong as sky scrapers

so when the flood came to wipe the weak buildings in the city

I was still there,

Build a shelter from books and believe

The Wiseman also said that home is where the heart is

no matter how different it looks compered to others houses you should mind your business and take care of your own

as such as on literal sense I haven’t been able to build anything for myself,

my heart has been the only home that is always open to the all secrets that what this world has to offer

without walls or different colours of painting

without a kitchen, bed or dining room

my heart has always been a home for me

when all the houses I’ve lived in have been portrayed as purgatory,

drafted by the sad stories told by me in places where anxiety was wild but unknown, ignored

in places where being oblivious of self-doubt was more of a healing process

I have learned to hibernate my way of thinking

building the fastest way to ignore that broken heart inside me,

every tear has created a foundation

simulating buildings parallel to the walls of decency

Published by ziyaad poetry

Muslim spoken word artist poet from South Africa.

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