In this first episode of our weekly reading series #PoetMeUp, Sandra Nadege hosts Tom Patrick as he reads "Death...Love". Enjoy!
TRANSCRIPT
Hello, my name is Sandra Nadege, and welcome y’all to episode 1 of #PoetMeUp
#PoetMeUp is a weekly series of poetry readings featuring new and well-renowned Rwandan poets. In this episode, we have Tom reading for us his sensational "Death...Love"
Tom Patrick Nzabonimpa is a Rwandan poet, writer, and tea lover. He was the winner of the 2020 Empower Africa Now Writing Contest – short story category.
Patrick’s works have appeared in Brittle Paper, Twaweza anthology, Beans Without Korkor? And Other Short Stories anthology, and WSA Magazine, among other places. He is currently a journalist at The New Times and a short stories editor with Writers Space Africa Magazine. He tweets at @tommpoet.
You grabbed the rounded container of that poison and poured it inside your yet-to-be cursed mouth!
You took in more cubic metres, hoping to forget or perhaps murder your guts for men!
You let it whirl as you danced, turning yourself into a quandary;
A vulnerable sister, the reflection of a mourning family!
Each gulp was a killer of your anger,
But a booster of sorrow that arose in your ex's absence.
Your feelings are WhatsApp statuses he muted.
Say he wasn't a betrayer; he is dead.
Do not call his corpse a curse; he is dead.
Death shits' cure is true love.
Eyes, red like the emojis in our yesterday's chat;
You rolled them faster like presidential van's tyres.
Each roll, an escalation of fear;
Each fear, a regret for loving him.
Perhaps you forgot that your depression was his favourite comedy show.
You took that poison all night and smelled like it;
Perhaps it helped 'cause your friends were tattoos you wish you never had.
You scratched your skin with a knife to send them away.
Each cut, was a scream;
Each scream, was a reminder that you are human and still alive.
You are weak and yet you are strong;
The pulses of your heartbeat are testimonies.
You took that poison for two more days.
Your mind tricked you that he was home
And you showed up with a stunted smile,
Your physique disguised as a corpse.
You slept
You woke up, his voice screeching around your ears.
"He is dead, you know it.
He is dead, you saw it.
He is dead, you don't look like him.
Your skeleton isn't in his closet."
I held your shaking hands and kissed your forehead.
I wiped away your tears, my hands lessening your pain.
Our long hug made your heartbeat snail,
The joint of our heavy breaths was a reflection of our worries,
But also a proof that death shits' cure is true love.
Sweet sister, I know you still love him
And were trying so hard to win back his heart
Though his accident became the cat that devoured your favourite mouse.
But take that poison...
Away from your guts.
I know you never loved it in those giraffe bottles.
The trash chimney is ready to swallow it for you.
That was it for today, thank you for tuning in. We hope to be with you in the next episodes.