The Ceiling Canvas

This is a feature piece written for The Peace Exhibit, a collection of fine art portraits and literary works created by photographers, artists and writers around Africa with the aim to stir up conversations about mental health, depression and the search for the “personal peace” that eludes so many. The collection has been featured on BBC Africa

Raindrop, Ceiling, Me,

A million pieces scrambling to fit together

Against unpredictable weather

I’m tired of being drained

Pinned down on this bed

Face up, Eyes open unable to rise

Lucid state of mind scrambled by paralysis.

A deep whiteness above me,

Fighting to regain- consciousness

Escape from this numbness

But, let’s move beyond this analysis of sleep paralysis

Coz my waking life reflects the same helplessness.

It’s like the roof caved in on me

Have I ever been whole or just a broken soul?

A million pieces scrambling to fit together

Against unpredictable weather

Raindrops, Ceiling, Me

The only thing between the storm and my body is this blank canvas above me

Maybe you knew me when I was a sketch

But when the painting began, the canvas changed

I just didn’t notice the colours unfolding every day

scars on the surface and within

stretch marks splitting the canvas into zebra stripes

Layers of colours added every day

The canvas constantly changing

Pieces always rearranging

Those who think they know me

Frozen in the moment they thought they learnt me

But this image is coming into form

And I stand ready to disarm

Take hold of the brush and add a little warmth

But don’t be fooled by this temporary sanity

Coz that storm continues to aggravate

And I, continue to transform