Mental Health
Breaking The Silence: Growing Up Queer And Disabled In Kenya
Introduction Growing Up Queer and Disabled in Kenya Growing up with multiple identities can be a complex and challenging experience. In Kenya, being both queer and disabled presents unique struggles due to societal norms, cultural expectations, and a lack of awareness and acceptance. In this article, we'll explore the stories, challenges, and resilience of those navigating life with these intersecting identities in Kenya. Through understanding, we can create more inclusive communities and foster compassion for people with diverse experiences.
By Usama Shahid2 years ago in Poets
This is what is needed now
I have been gone for far too long I can feel it now ready to burst from me I've been held down by sorrow and anger depths of me hiding in darkness I can no longer dwell this way time is lapsing and I fear eventual I hold so much pain in my heart a ferocious cataclysm pending and only I can prevent such calamity so I'm searching inside for myself yelling my name down empty hallways wondering if I'm even still there lurking through the thick heavy fog wondering if I'm the same strong and brave a force of nature that stood 270 million years I pray this is the truth I pray I find a hero because that is what is needed now I've been the coward the sinner the beast I've been the Savior the teacher the diseased I've been everything except for what I need Like stepping blindly into your world not knowing whether you need to swim or walk or fly fate gives no direction to follow no encyclopedia to your dreams it simply unfolds before you like a carpet a thick velvet droll of space so I follow that carpet hoping to find myself at the end hoping I am capable of love and compassion hoping I'm willing to withstand this fight praying I haven't misplaced my honor or disheveled away what does remain of my heart like droves of rhododendrons I must return I must replenish more faithful and more vibrant than ever before I must forget the mortality that is enveloped my writhing soul the deaths and the grief to which follows I have to let go even if it means losing a part of myself with it like I'm smothered in the dead petals and leaves of yesteryear unable to gain air or light I will only wither so I tremble and shake and shiver till those ugly layers Nestle in my feet and I take my first step out and away from them new revived somehow whole again I pray this is truth because this is what is needed now.
By Rhashel Price2 years ago in Poets
Soft Rain
I woke this morning to the tink, tink, tinkling of raindrops against my windowpane. It wasn't a demanding, threatening rain...but instead, it was inviting, calming, and so good for my soul. "I needed that," I thought as my sweet Pit, Mr. Boss nudged me with his cold nose and smiley face.
By Shirley Belk2 years ago in Poets
Do You Still Perform Autopsies On Conversations You've Had Lives Ago?
Introduction Most of us have found ourselves lying awake at night, dissecting a conversation from weeks, months, or even years ago. That moment when we wonder, "Did I say the wrong thing?" or "What if I had phrased that better?" This habit of mentally re-examining old interactions is like performing an autopsy on a moment long past - digging up details, analyzing intentions, and scrutinizing every word. But why do we do it, and more importantly, how can we let go?
By Usama Shahid2 years ago in Poets
