If I am the me always looking for you,
be assured: I am tired.
We are done.
If I love you the way you want,
but you cannot love me the way I want—
be assured: I am tired.
We are through.
If I am of no value to you,
please be assured: it happens.
We are also over.
If I am the me always forgiving the you you are,
be assured: I am tired.
I will find sinners willing to forgive me too.
We are complete.
This applies in equal measure to those connected to me
blood-ologically, marriage-ologically, socially-ologically,
Spirit-ologically,
and all other -ological situations.
This maned Lioness is done and out.
Ngifedile.
Live well.
Be blessed.
And understand—
I have wept for you already,
and thrown you a wonderful funeral.
Better than you could have arranged for yourself.
Rest in Eternal Peace.
The Maned Lioness does not roar for applause.
She roars to remind herself she is alive.
And then, she walks away.
(This descendant of Njapa and Nehoreka, Shumba Nyamuzihwa — mane carried proudly in her crown of curls.)