Under the Jacaranda Tree

Under the Jacaranda tree

my unruly hair is caressed 

by the mischievous wind 

my sweet southern soul sings

as I dance along the lilac path 

enveloped by untamed beauty 

you see,

where I come from

everything is polished 

neat 

organized and controlled

valuable time and money wasted

on destroying true beauty 

replacing it with precision 

a dash of color between the concrete 

manufactured nature with the facade of sincerity

lifeless.

where I come from,

we toppled our gnarled oaks

and replaced them with concrete kings 

but gliding down Nairobi streets 

I’m no longer separated from the real world 

instead—

mesmerized by the striking beauty 

the genuine faces

not hiding behind masks or pretension

And instead of feigning arrogance 

we join in the chorus with the birds  

we dance with the leaves in the wind

we spin with the raindrops 

and paint with the dirt 

and glide with the butterflies

and scream with the thunder

the cats and I walk the same streets 

the monkeys and I climb the same trees 

here, life isn’t artificially separated from nature

and creation isn’t harshly controlled 

destroyed 

replaced

here, under the Jacaranda tree 

I feel my regulated soul begin to dance free