To my brothers, who heard the suppressed cry,
The heavy, muffled cough in my voice,
When my world collapsed and turned all grey,
When the clock of my soul froze after an abrupt encounter with death.

Who arrived without summons, a compass in my daze,

Who sat in the wreckage and did not speak,
But helped me sift the ashes of my loss,
Seeking a single ember, fragile and unique.

Who stood guard as I beat my fists against the earth,
Angry at my own helpless, human condition.
Who held the torch in the fog that suffocated my next breath,
Without knowing where we needed to go, simply to illuminate.

Who gripped my hand when it trembled beyond control,
Who did not flee when the levee burst,
And witnessed the deluge, the ugly, wretched truth of my brokenness,
And had the courage to simply stay.

Who held space until I remembered,
In the heap of my disarray,
That this was a burden I did not have to carry alone,
And that it was enough to trust that I would be okay.

To the brothers who spoke their own hopelessness aloud,
And made my loss feel human, find value in mistakes,
Who showed me how to find the child I’d exiled,
In my frantic, desperate rush to be the man with a plan.

Who said, “ We are here. We start again.”
Who were the first to point to the ground,
At the green, defiant shoots emerging,
From the decay of all that I had thought I had lost.

The first to see the subtle change,
And smile at new growth, in a different, truer direction.
Who taught me that strength is not the absence of breaking,
But the courage to acknowledge the constancy of change.

To the brothers who reframed the journey of life,
Who said, “You don’t get over it. You learn to carry its weight.”
Now I stand, and I see you where I once stood,
Barely hanging on beneath the cruel weight.

So I say to you now, brother, be kind to yourself first.
The world sees pillars, but even stones are transformed when they break,

Through the trials, the fears, the regrets endured,

Know this: you are seen in your pain.

To you now, the brother, who stands, where I once stood,

Be kind to yourself. 

Grief is not a race to be run but a map to the forgotten terrains of our souls. 

PS:

A man once stopped me, his eyes hollow and deep,
Said, “Brother, I fear I have lost my soul.”
I simply said, “I know the way. I can help”.
“Let’s trace your steps together.”
“Tell me, when did you last feel whole?”

******

Strength & Sorrow has landed in Nairobi! You can now grab your copy at 5 bookstores across the city.
– Text Book Centre
– Yaya Bookstop
– Nuria Book Store
– Half Priced Books
-Prestige Book Shop

Or simply place an order on my website https://oyungapala.com/