Frank Njugi – In Grandmother’s Sacrarium


After Naomi Waweru’s -Sanctum

She speaks of her favourite aromatherapy as a somewhat dissonant Virgil

whose beauty remains that it might save you from 

what remains the brusque nature of our people’s most famous pastime

-making the sight of grief the patent for allegorical pity

eerily by kinfolk more than strangers.

It doesn’t always work out that way

 there is a zoo in Louisiana where you become Ota Benga

 A place where people stare at the debris of your humanity

 As if a god had cursed you

And they act surprised at your predisposition to be emotionally volatile

-The same guy who had previously openly cried when mockingbirds flew by  

and plucked the orchids his mother had previously 

watered with her tears when her husband briefly left.

And so you go back to her and say

“ Make me the pen that Sylvia Plath wrote  “morning song” with!”

And she says she can’t do that. 

Because the pantheon of those proclaimed as wise from your tribe once said;

A human, at a certain point, must desist from wishing for that which is good 

until one heals from the bad that broke them…

Suddenly, you wish you knew these invocations by heart

Because you currently feel like one trapped in a cosmic wall 

where the idea of healing as a concept remains a soft underbelly. 

You feel only in one place can you be alleviated by knowing this.

…… Her Sacrarium


About The Author

Frank Njugi is a Kenyan Poet and Writer. He serves as a poetry editor for Writers Space Africa ,a reader for Salamander ink Magazine and some of his work has appeared or is forthcoming on platforms such as Kikwetu Journal , 20.35 Africa, Kalahari Review ,IBua Journal and others.

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