dance class

It’s dangerous to fall in love with a seventeen year old, especially when they are your students. I never planned to, but it happened. My first class as a dance teacher and I was breaking the most profound of rules. I was doomed. Of course, I had tried to fight back the feelings. Unfortunately, it was as futile as running away from the moment of truth in your life.
Her name was Vivian. Five foot seven, slender, tony -brown in complexion with just the right proportions where they had to be. She walked in to the class while I was attempting to make my opening speech. That must have been the worst timing ever, because I went mute for more than “just a few” seconds.
“You all love to dance. Every part of our lives is characterized by dance. How we walk, talk, socialize and even sleep is dance. Dance is magic……”
She waltzed into the room with every conceivable ounce of grace the world could offer. The other six students turned to get a glimpse of the person that had me dumbstruck. No it was not her physic that got me, nor was it her face. It was her aura. Her very nature was beautiful, captivating to say the least. I tried to look away several times but my eyes were glued to her. I blinked several times to get myself out of that trance after a few awkward giggles alerted me to the fact that I was gawking.
The class endured in that awkward vein, if not a little more tragic. The only thing worse than everyone around you knowing you are infatuated, is the target of your infatuation finding it out too. Vi, as I came to refer to her from that day onwards, chose to torment me beyond measure. The first task was meant to be a freestyle session. Get the class t o let loose and show me what I was dealing with. Everyone had three minutes to express themselves in dance. And so the did.
“ This is your world, your stage. Pick your song and let it guide you,” I said as I made my way to a seat next to a wall of mirrors.
“ Why don’t you show us what you’ve got first?” Kevin taunted, “Maybe we take the awkward edge of.”
“Sorry, I am just the instructor.”
“All the more reason for you to set the ball rolling,” chimed Anita. A short chubby girl who was in jeans and sleeveless T-shirt said as she stretched then sat next to the others. After a few moments of blank staring I  thought I should get it out of the way. Being whip lashed and labeled shy didn’t auger well in one day.
“ Okay then, lets get on with it. Hip hop routine should be fine with all of you, right.”
“Nope, I want the tango and I am your partner” vi cut in as she went to the stereo and set the music. I could feel my heart thunder away wildly in my chest. My throat tightened and my mouth went dry.  I was blinking madly, like the sun was in my face. And at that moment staring at her face. It really was in my face. “hey, are you ready,”
“Ummhh!  Ummh” was all I managed then nodded unnecessarily fast.
she grabbed my hands and of she was. Before she came, I  was master of the tango and so many other routines. Now I was sure it was time to set all the crowns down. She was lithe, her movements hypnotic and the smile o her face, mesmerizing. Lord knows I was out of my depths with her. Vi kept drawing the ooohs! And aaah! From the ever increasing audience, and I was always trying to catch up. The quick turns, the twists, the twirls, the swells and the swirls. Angels in heaven must have been envious of me. I pulled her close, and she pulled away, drew me in, and then pushed me out. It was electric. It was magic. It was all too fast.
When the music died down I was millimeters from her face, taking in her every breath as she did mine. Slowly, our noses pressed close, eyes shut lips brushed.
“God no, don’t let me finish this.”
A thunderous applause yanked me back to reality. I looked up and the entire college must have bee n there, looking back, cheering, whooping, screaming. I looked down at her beginning to feel some strain in my left arm that was still wrapped around her waist. My right hand was over her shoulder. She must have been feeling some strain from bending backwards for that long. I stepped back and pulled her up…
 “hey, Jude is that you. Its been long since we spoke. I hope you haven’t been avoiding me”
I was jolted out of that reverie by this sweet familiar voice. Vi was standing there clutching a strawberry milkshake in her left hand. That hypnotic smile gently resting on her lips. She was still as lovely as when I first saw her. Perhaps a lot lovelier.
“Vi, yeah its been long,” I said rising to hug her. “Why would you think I was avoiding you?”
That hug was like kryptonite, or some illegal drug that was until this moment unknown to me. My pulse was racing, temperature rise and precipitation building. I felt her squeeze and I reciprocated. We let go and she  slid in to the seat opposite mine. after the first dance, everything between us had hit a convoluted spiral. The fated kiss that never was became an obsession for the both of us. i of course, tried to be the perfect gentle man and never pursue it. she on the other hand was the smoothest tormentor and took every opportunity to harass me. it was an intriguing game of cat and mouse. only problem was. she was well suited to it and i was thoroughly not. I decided it would be best if we did not meet so often, given my weakness for her and a stern warning from her father if I ever crossed that line. 
He had come to a few of the classes and noted me leering at her, and on the occasion he watched us dance, well he was not pleased. This to say the least.vi had on one occasion chosen (in her  immaculate torment of me) to lay her lithe body next to me while I rested on the dance floor, exhausted from all the routines taken on that day. My heart surged, my body quaked and my eyes never left her, as fate would have it, her father saw this and threatened to rip my arms out of their sockets if I ever looked at her twice.
This and the fact that I knew my resolve was weakening did not auger well for me. Of course, everyone knew she was underage, but they still urged me to do something about her. Vi on the other hand, made it her every day goal to tempt me to failure. I quit the classes and spent a lot of my time away from my usual hangouts just to avoid her. Though there was a change of pace, I was admit, my heart had deep unrelenting pangs for her. Now, she was here again and I was unsure of what to do next.
“you do have my number, right?”
“ummm yeah, I still do.”
“And you got all my messages”
I started to speak but my lips fell shut. Looking into those hypnotic deep brown eyes was mesmerizing. Not even my best lies would fool them. We both knew the answer to the question and I as sure she read it in my eyes as she always did before. her tender lips pursed and I felt guilt stab me in my gut.
She leaned back in her seat, crossed her write leg over the left and studied me. I tried not to still a glance at those primly curved limbs but the urge was too strong. “ She could be a model anywhere in this world,” I thought. I brought my eyes back to her face and noticed the wry smile darting across her lips. Triumph. She still had me spell bound. I smiled back as I reigned in my thoughts and composed  myself again.
“I heard you had a talk with my father, it was not so pleasant if your silence is anything to go by.”
“it was good, he was very agreeable,” I lied.
“Really? So good it made you turn your back on the one thing I know you love.”
“I didn’t turn my back on it, I just got caught up in my studies.” I bit my tongue after that lie. I was horrible at telling lies. Pathetic. Everyone knew I was in my final semester. My work load was down to two units and my research project was done and dusted. Furthermore, it was known that I was never one to miss a party or a dance contest.
“I admire your folly. You think the truth will hurt me.” She responded quite levelly
“”I suppose it can’t hurt to try,” I conceded.
“do I terrify you so much that you have to run from me.”


“ I was not running, I was not hiding. I just wanted to let you know that I like you.”
“Jude, you can’t be such a coward,” she said pulling my palm and cradling it in hers. “ admit it, you feel a lot more than liking for me.”
The silence between us hung for a few moment. As it did, our fingers were engaged in a furtive conversation: twisting twirling and intertwining. The response flowed though them and   the desired answer received positively. It must have been ages while we sat that way. A gleeful smile on my face spreading slowly to hers, a coded message exchanged for it was too tender to be put in words.
A voice cleared over my left shoulder and we looked up to see her father. Vi stood up obligingly as I shifted in my seat to say a curt hallo. But before the words were out, vi turned and said,
“ I turn eighteen tomorrow, I would love a last dance with you before I do.” Then she bent and kissed on the forehead, then on the lips. And left before I could reply.
Her father and I looked after her as she walked out and noted in a distant voice, “I suppose you will be back to give her dance classes.”
“I suppose so too”

apple

Apple

Sweetly succulent fruit

Hanging within my grasp

But still out of reach

You tempt me so

In ways

Only you know

Apple

Glossy in the suns rays

Looking so ripe

But not ready for the picking

You make me linger

Make me ponder

As I dream of you

Apple

Sweetly succulent fruit

You know I am forbidden-

But I really want to

Have a taste of heaven-

If you so wish

Tempt me not like this

Fickle

You are fickle
Like the dust below your feet
You are fickle
like the words that you speak
You are fickle
like the sick and twigs
That form your being
You are fickle
Claim to have virtue,
while there is nothing in you
like the bones that you are break
you are brittle
You are fickle

Like a child
You forget your past
And spit on our sense
Until the world breaks you
Then you realize
you are fickle
unlike the willow
you bend and break
you luck will
you turn and flee
from the challenge you spring
you are fickle dear boy.
like the dream of the blind bat
you are fickle
for you have no direction

i know

i know i can,
i know you want me to,
but i have learnt better
than to give in
to whims and desires
even when i know I can

I know i was the only one,
who ever made you feel
more like an angel
than a princess
and i could do a whole lot more
but i wont

i could have you,
in my arms singing to the heavens
beautiful as you are,
i could keep you your heart
among the stars
and with every lovely breath
keep you gasping for more
beloved
but i will not,
for you are no longer mine

i know he gave you the world,
and I admit,
what he has i do not
though you must remember
what i have, he will never have
that is why you long,
you crave to fix this ship,
that sailed to another

dear

it was not that I was in love with you
dear
its that I loved you too much
cherish, desired, wanted
all of you
all the time

it's not that I didn't spoil you
dear
I spoiled you too much
gave in to your every wish
served, treasured, and catered
to your ever demand
and every detail

 It was not that I was not there
dear,
It was that I was always there
trough the good and bad times
tending, encouraging, loving,
assuring you
 that you were the best
truly you were.

dear,
if there were more,
i would give it all,
unflinchingly, dedicatedly and forever
but you wanted no more
as though my all was not enough
only god knows
i tried

whiteman

Dear white man
You say because I am black
I belong to the back.
That I am not human enough
That I should not speak or laugh
Ah! Whiteman,
For a beast with the pigment of a ghost
you are truly lost

ah! white man
you spit on my culture,
say i am backward
while you have no culture
and your ways are awkward
if not wayward
you have no precise future
because you killed your past
all to satisfy thirst

dear whiteman
I have observed you
long enough to note your insecurities
and understand your weakness
so as to choose to stay unchanged
and unchallenged
keep your gin and whisky
and let me have my gourd
keep your sofa and office seats,
let me have my stool
keep your mansions
and give me my heart
and dare you not
call me uncivilized
find your path.
do not pull me from mine

COMINGS AND GOINGS

They were accustomed to his comings and goings. His abrupt and irregular, appearances and disappearances. He would be here for hours going on days, then take flight for weeks going on months. Thomas had observed enough to know that he only came back when his deals had gone up in smoke. Such was his nature.

He was peculiar to say the least and his tidings even more so. Thomas always wondered what sort of human being would entrust his saving or any amount of money or valuables to his father. But many men did, learning bitter lessons from the mistake. More often than was necessary men came to claim their dues. Thomas hoped that this was not the case again. Their visits preceded by his father’s depressed nature. He didn’t trust him, not even as far as he could throw him. That said a lot coming from a seven year old.

The battered and bruised old man had staggered in to the living room. He was tittering on the balls of his heels, the aftermath of another beating. He had more than likely taken off again before paying up.  

‘Hey, old boy, still holding up,’ he mumbled rather than spoke.

Stumbling over to the dining table, he fell heavily into a seat and gazed in to the distance. Thomas noted that his split lip was still bleeding and the blue shirt was dirtied and blood-stained. Thomas knew all too well what would come next. The hulking knock on the door. The brutal beating and excess violence. The script had lost its allure. The boy backed up to the wall drifting to his happy place. He hated his father’s ‘visitors’ as much as he did his father’s visits. All he wanted to do was to shut him out.

‘I am sorry, old boy but this time, I did it. I really did it,’ he said dreamily. ‘I am sorry that it has come to this.’

‘Momma asked to stop, you said you would, Pa, you said that it was the end. Why?’ the seven-year old moaned.

‘I am sorry, I know I  promised but this is different……’

‘You always say it is different Pa, you always say that. Why don’t you just stay away?’ Thomas shouted, his voice rising with every word. ‘ I hate you Pa, I hate you!’

Peter was so stunned by the words that he fell silent. He had never quite understood how much hurt he had caused the family till this moment. The countless times that his wife had tried to get him to understand that had never sunk in. Thomas made him feel it, and his words brought tears to his eyes.  He bit his lower lip and shut his eyes. Regret.

His heart ached as he remembered all the many times he had late down the boy. Thomas had looked up to him like any little boy would look up to a father. But promise after promise being broken. Lie after lie being told. Hurt after hurt inflicted. His mother hoped that they would leave soon. Save the boy before the grief tore him up or the hate consumed him. Peter had delved in his bubble too long to notice the boy’s pain. He was too busy being slick and sly. Now his sins were back to haunt him.

There was a time when all his scheming paid off. Everyone of them had been good. He gave his family the life he thought the deserved. That was at a time when all that mattered was the rush. He played fast and loose with everyone and that was exciting. It didn’t matter how many times his wife asked him stop, he always needed one more score. The fire that drove him to the brink of detraction. Now he was stuck, always wanting more but never getting enough.

 Peter was only jerked back to reality by the sound of crunching gravel as a car pulled in to the drive way. He stood up and braced his hand on the table, the pain in his rib taunted him. He stole a glance at the little boy, and felt the guilt suffocate him. He heard the steps on the porch and shifted his gaze to the door. Perhaps it was his wife, or the debt collectors, he hoped it could be the former.

Elizabeth was halfway in when she saw him and froze in her tracks

‘You good for nothing on of a…..’ she started to seethe

‘I can explain, jut listen to me for a minute, I swear. This time was different …’

‘Tell it to the choir, I don’t care. I want you out of my life, I want you gone, you and all you troubles,’ her voice was a steady rising crescendo. ‘We are tired of you, your lies, your cheating and stealing. I can’t expose Thomas to anymore of your troubles.’

‘I am sorry, I mean it this time it’s over, I ……’

Elizabeth raised her hand to silence him. She wanted to scream but she also wanted to keep her cool. Her chest was heaving, as she shut her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She wondered why he didn’t just stay away. Why the collectors didn’t just kill him? Why he didn’t kill himself. She wanted him gone, gone and gone for good.

‘Leave, please, leave now and never come back,’ she spoke finally and evenly, her eyes were still shut. A silence hung between them for a long strained moment. Peter wanted to argue, but he knew her well enough to know when to give in. He looked at her and placed his hand on the table.

‘Pa, leave please, you need to leave,’ Thomas whimpered.

Peter felt the frustration build in him. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it. He did it again then shut it. His eyes shifted from mother to child then back to mother. He  bit his lower lip. Peter shook his head and started to walk to the door. Elizabeth stepped aside, Thomas kept his face buried between his knees and rocked gently. Peter was at the door, took a last glance at the two, smirked then turned to step out, though he never did.

He was sent stumbling backwards by blow, then two ghouls walked in. The collectors. Elizabeth shrieked and rushed to her son, maternal instinct had taken over. Peter looked up to see one assailant raise his boot. He shut his eyes, held his breath and braced for the blow. The boy was screaming.

‘Nooo!!!!’ His wife screamed….

The pain hit him hard as the collectors boot made contact three times. Once with his head, twice with his shoulder then at last with ribs, reigniting the flurry of pain. Peter was in the foetal position, covering his head. Elizabeth shielded Thomas from the brutality that went on at the door.

‘Go, get him and go. Don’t do that here. No in front of the boy.’ Elizabeth pleaded.

The two men towered over Peter but stopped the pummelling him. They studied the two by-standers. One of them lifted Peter, apologised to his wife before they bundled him out of the house. Elizabeth watched them go and noted that that might be the last time she would see him alive. This she hoped both fervently. Thomas had his face buried in her bossom.

‘Is this the end of it?’ he asked

Perhaps, just perhaps, this might be the end of his comings and goings