Prose

Why i write…

Hi everyone.
I don’t know if you have ever wondered why my blog is called clayjars144.

Well,  clay jars comes from 2 corinthians 4:7. 

 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us”

When i read this verse i decided who i wanted to be…for the last time. I decided to be a vessel for God’s glory. I say this in the most honest, non pretentious way possible and i mean it. 

What that means to me is letting God use me and my talents to do his perfect will. 

To make it practical, my goal is to use whatever experiences i go through (or those around me go through) in my poetry to impact people positively.

So the treasure is poetry. And i am the clay jar. 

The reason i am clay and not gold or silver?

2nd timothy 2:19-21

Well, one reason could be to keep the focus off me and on God. To show that he is the one that enables me to do this.

And dont get me wrong, its not “clay” to “project humility”. I acknowledge the treasure in me, but i also know where it comes from…it comes from God above.

As for second Timothy if we take it as it is…it is simple. God knows who His children are and there is a certain way that they should behave if they are God’s children. “Depart from eniquity”

The way i undertsand this is…because we are of God, we should behave like him. So departing from eniquity means being like Jesus. (Jesus is God)

And being like Jesus is just that. In the gospels (Mathew, Mark, Luke, John) there are multiple examples of how Jesus behaved. Told from different perspectives, by multiple people. 

For me the summary is, Jesus loved without discrimination, he was helpful, authoritative, a good leader, just, giving, caring, kind, intelligent, wise. Jesus acknowledged his emotions, felt them and moved beyond them. 

That is what i should be.

Mark 1:21-22

John 11:33-36

Now the different articles/utensils (2 Tim 2:20-21), in the same house for different uses. 

My understanding is that us making an effort to be like Jesus (not us “following strict rules”, not legalism*will result in us being in a position to be used by God for his good work. It means that we can be our individual selves, with our own destinies and passions and still be used by God if thats what we want!

In summary, clay jars is me saying that i want to be used by God. I want him to pour out the treasure in me. I want him to help me do good for him. 

I am okay with being fragile and Christ-like. I am a work in progress.

This isnt like what i usually post, but i just needed you to know the answer to a question you didnt ask, lol.

Lots of love

*mutheu*

*legalism is dependence on moral law rather than on personal religious faith*

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Poetry

After all that

I felt more than i wanted to feel yesterday. And i am still processing. This is how i do it.
I dont understand why it is wrong
For me to feel what i feel
Why pain is something to get over
Not something to experience

Why me experiencing it
Makes you mad
Makes you uncomfortable
I love you
But i love myself to

And i will do whats right for me
Even when you dont understand
Im used to confusion
My own and that of others

So dont feel sorry for me
I hate that
Dont ask me whats wrong
I wont tell you

And maybe you are right
(You often are, eventually)
Maybe you wont be there when i am ready to talk.

But i know i will be okay.
But not until i am ready to be.
*mutheu*

I want this to be true. Its just that id rather feel what i feel than work to try and get rid of it.

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Poems

Assumptions (1)

Assumptions
Who are you to ask me who i am?
Hold up
You dont ask me, you tell me
Saying it one more time…”Your not kenyan”

I am not kenyan?
Me?
Well then…

Who made you the governing authority on all that is Kenyan?
Do you want to see my ID? My passport?
So there are white Kenyans, Indian Kenyans, but apparently Kenyans from the diaspora aren’t real kenyans?

Come again?
Is it cause my accent is different from yours?
Are the kikuyu and kamba accents the same?
The kisi and Luo and Luya?
Are they? No

So why does my accent amuse you?
Yes, yours amuses me
But i never question your nationality.
So what makes you think you can question mine?

I know my mother tongue…but no i dont speak it.
I know swahili, but i dont speak it that often..
Honestly because i don’t have the “swahili accent” (whatever that means) so you laugh when i speak like its a joke.
The only joke here is you thinking you can define a nationality by and accent.
Or even by knowledge of geography.
Or knowledge of language.
Or least of all personality.

I am tired of that question.
“Are you Kenyan?”
I am!

Can we move on now…

*if not…refer to the beginning of this piece cause im tired of your assumptions*

*Mutheu*

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Poems, Poetry

Nostalgia

Nostalgia got me caught in the rain yesterday. I got off at Kenyatta Hospital and was walking through the compound and the halls. It all came back to me. You came back to me.

So…TBT:

~~~~
13/12/15

First draft

I want you
Its like a constant ache
The sadness i felt when you took that call had me thinking i can’t do this anymore.
Tears began to form in my eyes.

I want you
Its like a primal need.
More than attraction.
A step beyond fondness.
Your warmth, like a soft glow from the radiant sun on a cold winters day.
Your kiss
A sweet serenade i have become accustomed to, but it still gets me excited.

The feel of your beard on my face and skin.
A soft tickle, brush bristles on the canvas of my soul.
You make me feel wanted
Your hand protecting me as we cross the road.
Lingering behind when i follow.
Your strong shoulder always there for me to lean on.
Your smile
The way your eyes decrease in size.
As if to make room for it.
And what makes you happy is beyond what is seen.
Your laugh…

You looked so handsome today
Shirt and tie
Formal wear
Turning me on like…
I don’t know
I wanted to get you alone

Seeing you with patients
Attentive
Caring
Gentle
And in that labcoat…

I should have stayed
But i didnt want you to see that side of me
This madness that ensues when im in this mood
And all my emotions motion me into gloom

You can’t see all of me
You can’t feel all of me
You may not want anymore
Or worse still, you may

You gestured to the word love on that sign
I that you too
You say you like me
I like you too, i really do
~~~~

Lol….sooo….as you can see i have been this dramatic for a while 😆
I hope you also see i’ve improved as a writer.
I hope to keep getting better.

Lots of love
Forever the romantic.

*mutheu*

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Poetry

Heartbeat


I breathe you in slow
Its a reflection of how i want to love
Then i inhale it all fast as i look deep into your soul
I hope you see me
I show you in my eyes
What my lips cant speak
I show you with my body
What my eyes dont say
And when i show you with my heart and the words of my mouth
You run away
I won’t say its okay
Its not

And i am not pretty
Nor am i beautiful
I am profound, formidable, enchanting
I wont make you see that.
I used to work so hard on imposing my awesome on everyone
Making my greatness clear
But what is great is that it didn’t work
People who thought of me as less than continued to do so
And so i saw the truth
People will do what’s good for them
So i will too

After all
I am just passing through
I am determined to be good to those
That i find on my path
But their smiles dont light it up
God does
My dreams do
Ambitions, affirmations, action
Faith will pull me through

I believe
I am no longer afraid of myself
My faults and flaws are beautiful
My scars are pretty
My darkness is life
My pain is progress

Heart still beating fast
From my last encounter with what i thought was love
When all the love was within me
Heartbeat slow from realization
Epiphanies sedate me
But my heartbeat is kept
So till my last breath
I will breathe life in
Take adventure into my lungs
Gulp it down and sometimes sip slow
But i will never stop trying
I will never let myself go
But you….i can live without…
With or without you all…i will thrive

*mutheu*

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Poems, Poetry

FAST and Hard…

Moving beyond yourself is so hard.

But once you do its hard to stop.

Its hard to start.
Reaching out when you’re the one who needs a hand to help.
A hand to hold.
Or just a high five.
Or a wave.
Or a smile, even if its fake.

Its difficult.
To feel someone else’s pain when you dont understand your own.
It sucks
Being in pain and having to smile.
It hurts.
Having to wait to be loved.
By people who dont love themselves.
People who don’t try you.
So how can you be more important than them?
When self love is a foreign concept…
You assume this but…

I can’t stress this enough.
You give the love you think you deserve.
So its hard.
For those of us who love hard and fast.
To love those who can’t decide.

Those who won’t confirm and always conform.
Won’t show up.
Won’t be there.
Physically or mentally.
Won’t support.

Because they don’t do that for themselves.
You assume
Dont expect them to do that for you.

This jouney has been long, i’m still running.
I passed tired on my way here.
Crossed the bridge of the hopefull over the river of helplessness.
Was high on want and started hallucinating
I went off the cliff of thought.
Dove into the abyss.
Into the bottomless pit of faith.
I had hope in my love.
But the black hole i found and the end…
Though beautiful…was a symbol of all your sweet nothings.
One giant empty promise of a future i couldnt lose…cause i never had.

I live in heartbreak hotel now.
Hearbreak warfare is my life.
My heart is more empty than my pockets.
Yet more full than my thoughtful mind.
There is a boy i know, he is the one i dream of.
He is the one i cant have.
He is the one ive given up on.

There is a man i know
One that i may have it bad for.
And im trying to GO SLOW.

But its against my nature.
Please understand.
And its okay if you dont…but i..
I love.
Fast.
And hard.

Inspired by recent events.
And the following people: lovers, daredevils.
Joy, Eunice, Usher Raymond, John Mayer, Whitney Houston, Sharon and Angie.
And a bunch of others….

*Mutheu*

Link in Bio for more.

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