Poems and Poetry Weekly Newsletter: 02/02/2025
A soulful contribution by Oganga Mangiti.
LETTING THE DARK THOUGHTS WIN
Letting The Dark Thoughts Win
I have thought about it,
Contemplated it even;
Letting the dark thoughts win;
And every single time, we have come so close to the edge;
That edge from which after,
The pain and hopelessness ceases;
That edge;
From which after can only be found peace and tranquility;
How peaceful would it be?
To leave everything behind;
To not have to worry about the ebb and flow of this life;
To finally be free of the struggles of living.
© Oganga Mangiti
WOULD YOU LOVE ME ANY DIFFERENT?
Would You Love Me Any Different?
Would you love me differently,
If you found out I took my life?
Would your thoughts of me change,
If you woke up one day to news that I had offed myself?
I am holding on,
I am trying my best to still be here;
But would you love me any different,
If I let the dark thoughts win?
© Oganga Mangiti
ALL I HAVE LEFT
"All I Have Left, is a piece that reflects on all that we have left after seeing the pain and loss we have gone through, and are still constantly going through.
It's the only thing that somehow, loss can never take away from me. Writing and expression.
Through this pain and loss, this is how you now somehow see me. Through this lens that has known and only experienced loss and pain over the last couple of months."
All I Have Left
All I had left now, was the writing,
It was the only thing impervious to loss,
It was the only thing I could really call me and own;
It was the only thing that now gave life purpose;
After so long without writing,
This was the only way I could really live without dying;
It somehow gave life meaning;
It was somehow the only thing that allowed me to live;
And I've know what it feels like to not live;
Going through periods filled with nothing but pain and loss;
Living expecting not to wake up the next morning when you go to sleep;
Living hoping it will all end tomorrow;
But it didn't end,
It never ended;
And that's why we are here, writing,
That is why you are here reading my pain and thoughts,
But it was never always like this,
We once had more,
We once had something to live for,
But for the last couple of weeks and months, we've had nothing to neither live and die for,
And now,
This is the only thing that gives me identity,
It's the only thing I can really call my own,
This is the only way you can remember me for now; through this pain,
But I hated this pain,
I loathed this loss;
I saw and lived through versions of me,
That should only have killed me by now,
But being here,
Writing and analyzing this pain,
Seeing this loss and giving words to it,
I somehow can exist above water without completely drowning;
And I will always be grateful for this,
Because this seems like the only thing;
I will have and live through, for a while,
So, I will clutch at it like the drowning man that I am.
© Oganga Mangiti
FOR HOW LONG?
For How Long?
Would we ever come up for air?
Would we ever come above the surface?
Could we ever thrive as we once did?
Are my best days behind me?
Is all I am looking forward to, loss and pain?
For how long will this be the life we know and live through?
© Oganga Mangiti
IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER
In The Bleak Midwinter
We almost had it,
We almost had it all,
We would have thrived and gave purpose to this life;
But winter came,
And it took with it everything we had known,
Everything we called our own and more;
Could winter ever pass?
Could the bleakness of mid-winter ever become more than that?
More than what we missed and had mourned?
In the bleak mid-winter,
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow, in the bleak mid-winter long ago.
© Oganga Mangiti
AND THIS PAST
And This Past
This very same past,
That we mourned for,
And looked at with so much nostalgia;
When did the past become bone dead,
Bones that couldn't be breathed into air,
Bones that were as dry as the beginning of the able man,
When did mourning become a daily activity,
And not just a hurdle,
In the path we called life?
When and how did we get here?
How did life transform into the terrible monster it is?
When did things get this bad?
Would the mourning ever stop?
When would we ever get to a point where the past didn't matter anymore?
When would the years ahead become the ones we looked forward to?
© Oganga Mangiti
LETTERS TO OLUDHE
Letters To Oludhe
Here we were,
At the tail end of it all;
Constantly living with this pain;
It existing with us and all we called ourselves;
And us maybe finding some form of reprieve;
The kind of reprieve that comes with acceptance;
Acceptance of our pain and heartache,
And out of it emerging a half-hearted resolve,
A resolve to start again;
View this life from a different lens,
The lens that we so long ago once thrived in;
But to start again, nevertheless;
To always know that we will always have to start again;
Start again, over and over again.
© Oganga Mangiti
“This has been my solemn contribution to you this week. I hope these words have rang true to you, as they have for me. This has been my saving grace and show of love to you, my beloved.”
I constantly appreciate the love and support.
Get a copy of my latest poetry and short story anthology, To Heal A Broken Heart, here, and you can learn more about it here.
You can also get a copy of my very first poetry anthology, Love & Pain, here, and you can learn more about the journey thus far here.
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May your days be gradually filled with more and more light. May your aperture be wide enough to notice.
Always with love,
Oganga Mangiti.