Thanks for visiting my blog. This blog chronicles a mostly 4-year journey of love, life, and loss. It's now time to retire. However, feel free to browse and read through the posts.
My current work/projects can be accessed at www.miriamjerotich.com

Saturday, April 14, 2012

RIP Mary Onyango

It's hard to eulogize a person you never knew, but there's so much about Mary Onyango that I admired. One of these days, I will write an essay about such women. I look at them from the sidelines of their lives, and I can only exclaim: what a woman! So here's a poem for a woman I never knew, but who I know was loved and admired by many. May God rest your soul in His eternal peace.


Mary Onyango,

If I could write a song for you,
 Mary Onyango
I’d compose a wordless requiem,
and sing it in the octaves of my heart.

If I could speak of you,
I'd tell of your fiery resolve,
to work and fight till the day you died.

If I could hold a mass for you,
I’d wear your favorite pink,
eat Christ's crusted flesh and
drink his blood and plead—

“Lord,
 rise with her again.
Someday.”

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Stingo Za Kutumia Bible Study Kuingisha Manzi Box

You imagine her face in a photo.

Will the light capture the unspoken secrets in her eyes? Will people know that her smile sears your heart? Will anyone hear the caress in her voice mystifying you with a sense of the unknown? Will she ever know that your brow coils in a frown when you can only call her “God-fearing” and “pretty” but not “mine”?

“I’m having trouble understanding what this verse here means,” she interrupts you.

She’s caught you staring, but you look down quickly to save face.

“Yeah…umm…so I think the way people have generally interpreted Jesus’ words...”

Your voice trails off as you show her the underlined words in your Bible, explaining why the adulteress anointed Jesus’ feet, wondering all the time if Jesus could lend you some of his power.

Because right now, your words fail you, and you are skirting on the edges of fearless abandon, looking at the ledge that holds you back, reading the words you inscribed years before, reciting them to your heart, trying to tame what you can’t control anymore.

“Maybe tomorrow when I take her photo after the Bible study session,” you console yourself.

Tomorrow, when she’ll stand in front of your camera, and you no longer have to fight for those stolen moments, because you’ll capture her—in your Nikon lens, and in the hidden curve of your heart.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Because You Live

Lord,
When I was younger,
My Mama taught me to sing:
 "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow"
As I grow older Lord, please
Cause me to remember—
Beyond learning not to panic,
Over sticking to my own race,
More than choosing to wait,
Or writing for Your glory
That I live, move and have my being,
Because You live!

**HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE.** 

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Baby Sister

When I was four years old, my youngest sister was born. I was so excited by the newest addition, that I exclaimed "Mtoto wetu ni mbrown na mzungu!" before I even saw her. I'm not really sure how to express this phrase in English, so I will let it stay like that. I have tried to rephrase it in the poem below (I wrote it for my creative writing class), but if you understand Kiswahili, then you are sure to enjoy the poem even more. The poem is dedicated to my lovely sister, who blessed my life when she was born, and continues to do so right to this very moment. I love you Precious!

I dreamed of you:
brown skin—
almost white.
A baby sister.

I waited for you
My ear on mama’s stomach
Feeling for a kick
And if I was lucky
maybe your heartbeat.

I saw you:
mama in the old creamy Opel
you on her lap.
Beautiful brown skin—
almost white!

Now 17 years old...but still my baby sister!