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Writer's pictureCAFTA Co. Writer

Untitled (22/12/2021)

Written by: Oratile Ndimande

 

It’s the morning. Wake up and take the day”, the alarm proposes.

I say nothing, pretending it is a part of a dream I’m trying hard not to part from…


Wake up and take the day

Never mind what’s in your head

Get up and make your bed

Make up your mind, but Never-mind pretty, polite thoughts

Take this day. Take it out like it’s a loving boyfriend on a date

Date the day, on a dated day. Schedule this date,

An anniversary of an assignment/report due, a minute before midnight.


Get up and get dressed,

Get dressed to the nines, and shine in your nine-to-five dedication.

Dress your day, and leave others dazed with its timeless beauty.

Gift it with a bottled fragrance of a rich cent;

A piggy bank, shaken and sprayed on the wrists.

Tell the day to take its time, but before you know it you must rush

and it’s time to take the day out on a date to an expensive dinner,

before you miss your reservation.


Treat it to exquisite swigs of mouth wash and expensive glasses of bitter coffee.

Have it serenaded to trafficked car horns and “please spare me some change, sir”

whilst you enjoy your meal by candlelight.

Whisper in its ear, and tell it what you want…

Afterwards, hold out your hand, and ask this dated day if you would have this dance

Step together, as the day’s head is rested on your shoulders

Step. And step again as it relaxes and it gets late

Step, step and step again as you take the day away

Take the day away and change the date!


It’s the morning. Wake up and take the day”, the alarm proposes.

It nudges and pokes me from behind, its caressing whispers quickly become annoying tugs and tears at my ears…


Wake up and take the day

Take this day out on a morning run.

Put on your old running shoes and race it to the front gate.

Remember to put it in its leash,

And to take small bags (in case it decides to get shitty).


Never mind what’s not around,

Get up and out the lost and found.

Step into a slow jog towards the coffee machine,

Slogging past leashed commitments barking, threatening to chase you down the street

Step. And step past trafficked car horns,

Into a steamy shower,

And try to forget how you ignored “please spare me some change, sir”


Step, and step ahead.

Headed forward in your steps and -- mind your step!

Your day is running ahead of you,

Trying to run away from this like a child running from bitter cough medicine,

or better yet, a teaspoon of castor oil.

You drag behind as you huff and puff out of breathe,

trying to hold it down by its hands and feet, so it cannot kick its way out of your control.

Take the day, even though you are barely hanging onto its leash.


What if, you hear it barking at you

But don’t you think, it pants

But then you haven’t considered this, it howls

Step. And ste- you slip and trip on someone’s shitty behaviour

And as you fall face fist into the concrete,

You wish someone had taken the day way from you...

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