Mukupa Writes

By Linda Mupemo  At this juncture, heaven does not feel so close. Knocking but all the doors seem closed. My cries are seemingly more silent than the footsteps of an ant. My life is darker than a moonless night, So dark that the sun seems dimmer than a spark between two rubbing needles. I put my prayer on, all I get are boomerangs. My friends getting blessed, I watch in admiration as men of God deliver heavenly messages to them. I keep wondering when I will receive mine. The more I try to calm the storm, the more my boat sinks. I breathe life into the skeletons that have amassed around me,  My oxygen is seemingly just another death pill. I am slowly running out of my mustard-seed faith. I am on the verge of giving up his will.  But there is a voice inside me telling me to be still. Lost my family, dignity, wealth and everything else I worked so hard for. And you expect me to be still?  Confusion does not

By Linda Mupemo Welcome to the 21 st century where the core values of yesterday are the trash principles of today. Christianity has not emerged a cherry on the cake in this edited generation! Each time I permit my medulla to process a thought about who a Christian is, their life and their call, A rather formidable feeling grips my soul so I endorse two new words: Sundians and Saturdians because people now approach Christianity like an outfit for a date, only to impress and adore what we see. The rest of the days are party days, Saturdays and Sundays are the only holy days. Camouflaged in hypocritical personalities on service days, yet naughty all way Indulging in illicit activities with the notion of repenting later on church days, absurd! I call them Sundians and Saturdians, yeah and the truth must be heard! Pretending is not compulsory like the vowels are present in every word So I wonder if everybody is as holy as they portray themselves on social network

By Linda Mupemo The curtain is slowly closing, wrapping up this phase. The crowd is still clapping, right time to leave the stage. We both know the story is ending, playing our parts but just faking. The love is already gone, no use faking what we are not feeling. As I say the last line of this beautiful love story, pain is pricking every inch of my soul. As I say the words we both dread to hear, my heart is shattered to the core. But I would rather take a bow than watch us drain our emotions in an endless war. From being the sugar in my tea, you turned into the pus in my wounded heart. The pus ripened and left around it an excruciating crust. No energy left within me, it’s time I put an end to this emotional dart. We have to celebrate what was and forget about what can or would be. We learnt our lessons and have a clear picture of how our next scripts should be. We can continue loving each other separately, forever my love you shall be. Goodbye my darli

A woman celebrates sunrise- picture by google images By Linda Mupemo So I am a fan of this incredible ‘ When Women Write’ Facebook page. It has over five thousand followers. The administrator, Sharmaine had asked us to write New Year messages meant to uplift and encourage the down cast. She said only the top ten messages would be shared on the page.  Well, I gave it a shot. And the following was the feedback I got; Linda, I loved this powerful piece! It was selected to be shared as New Year good word. Please post it on the timeline as soon as you get my message. I want to hear more from you in the comments, you have something to say, there is a book in you!  I was so happy especially that I got that message on 1 st January, 2014. What a great way to start a year. Below is the message I wrote, I titled it ‘Brand New You’. There are times when heaven does not feel so close, you keep knocking but all the doors seem closed, your cries seemingly more si

By Flavian Mupemo Jnr One step at a time, I was like Jordin Sparks on a battlefield. Two were three much, I was only six said Dad. I could play in the mud; and certainly none would think I was mad, I was just a lad; at least that was my shield. I remember going home dirty, all sweaty. But momma did not beat me-she hugged me. Even though she wore white clothes, closer to white as snow, she hugged me. With a passion and love warmer than summer, she held me. Took me by my tiny flabby hands and she bathed me. Then kissed me by my forehead, without a word and gave me a cute white pillow, I got sad. Out of guilt, I promised I would never play in the mud and that I would cherish that pillow. So every time I returned home from school, I would throw my bag, Jump on my bed and give my pillow a big hug. I remember the days I wished for a Santa; or anybody Claus. Anybody; who would see me as better than a loss.   See; I was genetically incapacitated, my

Picture by google images By Linda Mupemo Knowing that Jesus Christ loves me gives me so much joy and keeps me going. He suffered temporal punishment so that I will not have to suffer eternal punishment. He faced the highest degree of the rage of man so that I will not have to face the rage of God.  He loves me so much that he did not want to live without me. As imperfect as I am, Jesus still died for me. Even when I foolishly betray his love for me by doing what does not please him, he does not cast me off. Instead, he patiently waits for me to realise that without him I am nothing , but with him I am everything. Oh what a love! A love so strong, a love so real, a love worth dying a painful and shameful death for. The death that takes away all my sins, puts me right with God and makes me a citizen of heaven. “He will appear a second time, not to deal with sins but to save those who are waiting for him,” says the Bible in Hebrews 9 v 28.  How I long to s