Sunday, March 18, 2012



I am not innocent, not yet guilty, but if you look closely you’d find that I am guilty.

I might have been an accomplice to the murder, but without the evidence it’s nada. What they need to do is prove beyond reasonable doubt that I am a wolf trapped in sheep’s body.


 I know in the meantime I am guilty till proven innocent, but I am innocent. While I’m in between I am innocent-guilty.

Even though I face this trial with the machismo required of me, you see that this man of cloth is scared shitless like the Americans say.

This and the façade I’m trying to keep are making my life a juggle of make-believe.

Shiri came from Israel on Monday. On Wednesday we had a date at the Intercontinental Hotel (the girl has class). After dessert she took my hand and led upstairs. This came by surprise. I wanted to tell her that I couldn’t, but deep inside I knew I ought to play along, to be there and emotionally available for her.

I found myself jumping the ship (We men never say we ain’t in mood).

When the weekend came I had to leave her. She wanted a full weekend at her place, but you know me! I have a duty to the church that has accused me of killing one of her bishops yet at the same allowed me to continue officiated in the services (because there are no enough priests, plus today’s young men don’t want to be priests) – rules are there to be broken (I was excommunicated ferendae sententiate – imposed by legitimate superior, Archbishop Raphael Ndingi Mwana’a Nzeki in my case – but was reinstated from up the food chain).

Well, this life I lead is a rollercoaster.

But still lemme finish my story.

Copyright ©Elove Poetry, 2012. All rights reserved.
If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you would like to read the earlier series.


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