I leap and clap and, in ecstasy, sway
To a beat that—they claim—is only in my head.
I scream with delight at the clouds, all so bright,
In yellows and golds and silvers and reds
And yet they insist the sky is just blue-white.
The sky softly whispers, a quick contradiction,
“Don’t worry,” it says, “they lack your insight.’
A fly buzzing past; a charming quick flurry…
Of… Thin legs… Neon colors… Fragile wings
Whispers a joke…. I collapse with mirth.
I am filled with happiness, I don’t know why!
The men in white, faces clad in solemn gloom,
Scan me with intensely searching eyes.
Armed with needles and fancy looking tools,
They probe, they pierce, they ask to no end,
Tiring, irritating and never-ending questions.
The women in blue Ill fitting dresses
Hand me colored pills and keep a safe distance,
Afraid perhaps of catching happiness?
So I tell them-again- about my husband Mark,
Who sits beside me daily and makes love to me at night,
I tell them about…about the twins; they make five today.
The sad men and blue women sadly shake their heads,
“Your family is no more,” they shamelessly lie,
“You set them ablaze, three years ago,
In a smoldering fit of rage that lasted three days.”
My husband beside me, tickled by this remark,
Slides to the floor laughing, clutching his sides,
A gentle rebuke spills forth from my tongue,
“It isn’t nice, Mark, to laugh at the insane.”
Image by Thomas Saliot.
About the Author:
Dorothie Ayebazinwe is a lawyer, writer, wife and mother. She first realized she could write poetry when in my Primary Six; they were given an assignment to write a poem about Uganda and a fellow pupil copied her poem verbatim. She only discovered this juvenile case of plagiarism when we were summoned before the teacher who demanded to know where we both had copied the poem from. Through the years, she has come to lean more to prose and have been involved in a number of writing projects. Poetry has always been just a hobby and something she studied in High school. It is for her, an outlet of my emotions.