She gazes outside her window as the sorrow fazes her maze of a life that knows not what tomorrow holds. Her little wooden window lights this small room casting a shadow of a widow whose life reflects nothing but regret. She misses him and fourteen seasons later she still finds reasons to hang in there. They wrote her off too early. The thought that she had it was too scary.

See, they took all she cared for and worse still the ancestors took whom she cared for. The father of her two sons. Taken by the father of the two suns. Two suns that rewind the seasons and remind her of how her strife has shaped her life. The day and night suns. The day one giving her hope yet the night one creeping with ghosts that quench their thirst with the tears she has shed over the years. Years shaped by her fears of not waking up the next morning. Fears that make her shudder with thoughts of her sons mourning. Her death. An outcast because she had it. An outburst in the village after they heard it. The pastor and witch doctor did not have an answer. The elders did. They heed the outcry to send her away never knowing their deeds would push her to find a way.

You see, she never knew that good life. She did not have that good job in the city. Her lifestyle knew no danger; her life knew no anger. She was just a stranger, a village girl who had never traveled the district leave alone the world. She lived on instinct and the taught word from her forefathers. Then she met him. The wild one who swept her off her feet almost dropping her six feet deep. He came back with it from the city. His riches had made him sort of a village celebrity. They all wanted a piece of him and so did she? It has been long and she matches on strong than ever before. Her two sons in school as she builds their foundation. She is now a stranger to doubt. She stands out, having made it in this shanty doing odd jobs but never having to sacrifice her morals.

Tomorrow is a mystery but her kick will pick her up and keep her going. Living knowing that she who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. Her regretfulness would have everything in this world cursed and lost in all forgetfulness. So she reflects on her refracted past and her hope is in the name of the most gracious, the most merciful. Her life may have a refracted ray of light but it still lights her up no matter how bent it gets. She has shown a spirited bent to live.

© george kinyua