A Little Bit Of Sunshine

I know of a tragedy for which no one cares... Where are the  soft pears? I've looked in the grocery aisles  and they're not there. I went to the market and saw one  that looked promising.  Only to sink my teeth into disappointment and watery toughness.  I've had my fair share of counterfeit pears  That couldn't be trusted.   When I was little, they were always around  Now, it seems they are nowhere to be found  Are they an urban myth I have spent  my entire life believing?  But there was a pear I had forgotten in my bag for a week To my surprise it was soft and sweet And I realised soft pears are not something you buy. You take them home and wait until they ripen. The sweetest things in life take time.  

It's a picture that once vexed me. Women gathered in large groups, praying, cooking, serving tea with thinly sliced pieces of cake. Meanwhile, the men stood outside in idle clusters, appearing only to demand a large tray of food.  I never quite understood that – why the burden of society fell on us. Were these big, strong men too mighty to make a cup of tea? Well, couldn't they at least sit down quietly as the visitors imparted words of comfort? I noted it in my journal one day: if I had a son, he would NOT be outside at times like these. He had to bear the burden too. He would certainly not sit like a prince waiting to be attended.  This was what it meant to be human, I thought. If someone died, we showed up. We put aside our many comforts and lended our hands and shoulders. I felt very proud of my observation and decided to share it – often. At best, I was met with amusement, at worst, plain indifference. This is just the way things are.  That only incited me more....

"I've started remembering to look up again."  – Naledi Biyela  When I was younger, I would take my Natural Science textbook out in the front yard and look at the night sky... Trying to find the exact constellations illustrated in my book.  The first to catch my eye were three little stars lined in a perfect row, infamously known as Orion's Belt . Please understand, I was in 7th grade, and nothing could convince me I wasn't the second coming of Albert Einstein at this discovery. Looking at the stars has always made me feel important rather than insignificant. Out of an infinite number of possibilities in this lifetime, I just so happen to exist.  It's been a long time since I've stargazed, but I was recently inspired to look up one night and saw my old friend Orion. For the first time ever, I could actually see the outline of a hunter, like a join-the-dots drawing, and I was reminded of the joy I once found in my little discoveries. Later, I penned this poe...