Movin’ Out

Movin’ Out

She sat in the front courtyard,
And watched silently,
As the neighbours moved house.
She saw a torn chaise lounge,
Aged with time,
And full of both warm and sad memories,
Being hurled into the waiting truck.
A tired bed was next,
Many a generous generations,
Had been sired,
Upon it’s wobbly legs.
An avalanche of various sad and worn out wordly possessions followed,
And were unceremoniously being heaped upon the old and wheezing truck.
Ah. Moving out…

Finally,
Her neighbours were moving out of the run down neigbhourhood.
A place of shattered dreams.
A home of sordid existence.
A destiny of vicious circle of poverty.
A shanty townwship.
A place where no one lived.
A place where no one survived.
A place where people just existed instead of living,
Not unlike the forlon and unforgiving sordid structures,
That they called home,
That housed them grudgingly…
Movin’ Out.

She didn’t care,
To know where her neighbours,
Were moving to.
To her,
What mattered most was that,
Her neighbours had managed atleast,
To move out,
To escape,
From the tight grip,
Of this slum.
Here,
No one moved out.
The slum held you down,
Suffocating your dreams and will,
Killing your resolve and ambition,
With a determined efficiency…
The slum became you,
And you became the slum.
There was no moving out.
Movin’ Out it was then.

But her heart glowed with hope,
When she saw her neighbours,
Moving out.
She knew deep down,
That she too will move out one day.
she wanted to escape from this meaningless existence.
She dared dream of a better life,
Out there.
She deeply knew and believed that,
She too,
Would one day be a star,
And shine brilliantly,
In a dark night,
And upon the whole wide world…
Movin’ Out.
She will.

©Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

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2 thoughts on “Movin’ Out

  1. Thanks Happiness is Not a Disease for connecting with the above piece. I too come from the third world and this happens every other day. Thanks for dropping by!

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