Black & White in a Grey World

I picked up my pencil, sharpened it and began writing a few lines.

It’s been months—my mind felt like a moving train. But still was the hand that held the pencil. Could it be the stillness of the night?

As frozen, as these hands felt, my mind moved like the great river. Words gushed into my hands like a broken pipe. I hoped my hands could catch up with the frequency of my thought. Peradventure it was a matter of survival.

Pondering through thoughts, flashing with memories

Counting the losses and gains, unlocking the bolt to giant doors

Finding the last piece to the puzzles, sorting answers to the mystery of life

In the midst of the grey world, I could still manage to see life in black and white.

I have only scratched the surface.

They looked like mere visions; unshakeable, unbeatable

It’s in the midst of this grey world, that all my skies are painted brightly

My womb leaps in joy again.

Here I find my tired limbs regain strength

My lips chap with smile and my numb hands gushing with blood.

In the chrism of the dew and cool of the dawn, I found a fresh start

I have found reasons to see black and white in a grey world.

Oluwamitomisin

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