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.