The Return of my Poet

...dear diary, the echo of caged words is trying to drag me from the shadows of my inkpots and I can't help but smile at the stitching phrases rushing from my depths to your screen.

...in a secret battle, the voices in my head have tried to pin my poet on a cross that life often crucifies liberal minds. Uncertainty has seen me let fear seep through the cracks meant for light and then left me to deal with its blind spots.

...the taxman has left me worried about a future that is asking for nothing but more trips to my lenders while promising me better days. Though I yearn for them, lack of planning in a government responsible for more than fifty million lives has inflation mocking my motherhood paranoia.

...the economic strain has drained the time to keep up with a lot I should as I keep finding myself back in the same rat race cycle that I am trying to escape. Basic needs are now a threat and this is something that I have never known how to deal with without freaking out.

...and so there are some empty cupboards and a heap of bills to settle and a very disoriented mother but it also rained and my farm is recovering from the wrath of a months-long dry spell. That has tickled my farmer, to say the least as now my Zucchini patch gets to thrive without more expenses.

...the political aftermath has given the new regime powers to oppress small-scale farmers and milk the last drops of sweat from our backs by making this venture more impenetrable but I am still clinging to my lease and hope to renew it at the end of this month.

...it will cost 200 dollars which I don't have as this year was more like turning a thicket into my cultivable land which I have so partially I don't mind. The part that is difficult stems from realistically looking at what my odds are as we speak.

...and even though all this annoys my impatience, I have a feeling that it will work out in the end. I mean, if anyone told me that today id is worried about a different set of problems than I did since I was last here, I would have argued with them.

...it ain't all roses but these thorns have ripped the seal of my understanding that sometimes things get out of control and me feeling hopeless or helpless never makes the chaos go away or hand me the steering wheel out.

...the universe expects me to simply accept where I am and work towards what I perceive as better and everything else will align. The trick has always been leaving doubts at the door but I am grateful that these words always look to anchor me in my authentic aesthetic.

...enough about me though, how have you been? And are you blessed with awesome friends like @trucklife-family? I know I am 🔆

...the digital art is mine thanks to Wonder.

_{wambuku w.}