By Moses Gitonga
My flaws have me convinced,
Am not worthy of this gift,
The audacity of me!!
To think that I can keep an angel satisfied with walking the ground like a regular being.
I’m a being regular in all sense of the word,
Tall dark and handsome is nowhere near my realm,
I am dark but I’m not tall enough,
I do not have the strength and physique of most men my age,
I do not possess the bravery of soldiers nor the confidence of public figures,
I’m awkward at social gatherings,
Never been the life of the party, I’m usually what kills it.
Was never the smartest, the funniest, the most athletic
I do have a way with words but sometimes my tongue refuses to cooperate
And where some men hope that the depths of their pockets would pick up from where
their looks left off,
I was clearly left behind
They however tell me,
Love is blind,
Maybe there is hope for me afterall
But, how blind is love?
To what ends are its sights limited?
I’m hoping it misses my setbacks
Highlights my benefits, if any and paints me in a different light
That would expose, from the shadows, something extraordinary in all my regularities
That would decorate my scars as triumph over grief and sorrow, and my insecurities as
That would force her to forsake the peace and calm the heavens offer
And in turn choose to be a rough terrain with me
That would blind her to all my faults
As it has already blinded me of hers.