Feminism, inequality, traditionalism, sexuality, racism, appear to be the very layers woven in our society. The bloody soaked material filled with hatred and resentment drapes our fragile, agile, bodies as the moral orthodox stitches hold the shuka and polyester layers to an embrace. The thread and needle held by the universe weave these intricate stitches together, but man has evolved beyond comprehension. We are beyond children being reprimanded by the wagging of the finger or being grounded for defying a curfew. We have become gods to our self, hiding behind the door of science, alas as all fails we put on the mask of religion and seek solace and retribution for our purpose. When the curtain closes and all we are, is but a fragment of our true self.

Life as we know it is no longer about Adam and Eve finding their new identity, breaking free from the bondage of Eden by chasing curiosity down the thorny jungle called life but rather more about running from our deepest fear ‘death’. We constantly chasing new ways of curing life threatening diseases trying to salvage ourselves from countless wars, global warming, xenophobia or wars with our selves ‘depression’. This bubble of life held ever so gently by fear, blowing ever swiftly by our desire to live through today, with our mantra of ‘ you only live once’ urging us on.

However surely we are fooling ourselves by barricading our spaces with such an ostentatious façade, as we brush of the reality that we kind of drifting blindly ahead in this dudgeon. We try to sweeten the words we paint on our head stone, we try to write our life story in such a way as to bring some kind of pride to ourselves, when the curtain draws to a close and we take our last breath. Why should it matter? When we won’t be there to acknowledge the sense of gratification it might bring, when we no-longer there. When our names are just bones and sand in our casket and they are spoken on our anniversaries, when our names are erased from the book of life, when all we have become is a fragment of what we fear.

What we strive for is our names being recited in our history books or just being remembered by those who are far removed from our bloodline. We seek to breathe life to our death with a sense of purpose, rather than perish thinking we were nothing more than a blank page. Before we walk our last and journey to the other life, we conjure up mantras that guide us to living a purposeful and fruitful life so that what we leave behind is beyond just a name. Like Sigmund Freud once said “the goal of all life is death” and as a result we chase it with pride but fear its hand, we try to live life to the best way we can. We try to soften its blow and every sunrise we awake to, brings forth a sense of relief. To others they kneel down to whichever higher power they follow and say a prayer, to the world of science, it means another day at the office crafting ways of prolonging life, being in control, or is it power we lust for.

We enslave each other to be master, we create divisions within the socio-economic spectrum to become kings and queens; rich and poor. We segregate ourselves in blood and hue to create open spaces within our platforms, be it patriarchy or misogyny. In every way man seeks to concur at the cost of another human. We have lost all sense of respect and moral standing that the race to the top cares not whose blood is spilled in the battle, but rather who has worn the race. We murder each other in the name of our country, our tribe, our manhood. We violate each other, name bash each other and blame it all on psychosis or religion. We have become a universe that feasts on each other and as we wipe the blood off our cloak, we sleep ever so soundly, with the jasmine scented sheets cleansing our conscience.


Article previously published on my blog page -

Published by Murunwa Netshisaulu

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