Muddy water. Flowing like any other water.
Behaving like water. Freezing when frozen.
Melting when melted. Boiling when boiled.
Muddy water. Splashing when poured out.
Flows into streams at the speed of other water.
It is water.
You may not want to drink it
For fear of what lies in it
Though you have not tasted
The healing minerals in it
Muddy water. Healing when required to.
Discarded as dirt. After its minerals have healed.
Washed off… forgotten. Until ailments return.
Muddy water. Exfoliant for royalty.
Sold as health. Only to those with wealth.
It is health.
You may not want to seize it
Because you fear its truth
Though you envy its beauty
And the raw history in it
Muddy water. Black as my brown skin.
Singing woeful songs. For ears unopened.
Learning new flow. To avoid stagnation.
Muddy water. Doubting its minerals.
I am muddy water.
Precious to those who matter.
Discarded by those in denial
Of the gift I am to life.
I am muddy water.
Full of life yet undiscovered
But never given room to try.
Frank Malaba
