Her place was in a four-walled room called kitchen Broken dishes were the order of the day She had mastered the scents of the various nail breaking dish washing liquids she struggled with every time she tried to scrub the dirt away In this kitchen She was brought down to the level of a dishwasher…
This Loose Upon My Eyes
This loose upon my eyes Held tight in shape by society’s lies Reduced me to help Reduced me to help This loose upon my eyes Which society likes Trying to put these turkeys above me I am weak, I am starved, they might make a Panda of me They like me in this mud He…
Portrait of a Girl at the Border Wall
All the women in my life are hungry I have written this one hundred times. I do not know how else to tell it: the girl by the roadside, the bruised peach, the narrow collar, the night full of birds. Her body is a long river that cuts through every room. See her in the…
Sarah Lubala
Sarah Lubala is a Congolese-born, South Africa-based writer. Her family fled the Democratic Republic of Congo two decades ago amidst political unrest. They relocated first to South Africa, then the Ivory Coast, before returning to South Africa and settling in Johannesburg. She has been twice shortlisted for the Gerald Kraak Award, and once for The…
Jean Rhys
I think of the divided self of Jean Rhys in Dominica, her invisible self in London, and the depth, scope, scale of her writing: What was achievable in her lifetime is achievable now, the winter’s tale of Jean Rhys, and her tragedy of errors, of losing a child, and her failed marriages. She was a…
Y’All Hear Me?
I know I will die on a cold winter morning. Winter withers me so it’s only fair that I believe my well worn weathered body Will wilt on such a day. Wrap me well, warmly. It’s the least you can do for a tropical wench Who died in a witheringly cold world. I will require…
Silence
Silence shall not Calm the waters nor free us. Silence shall not Prosecute nor stop them. Silence shall imprison us Enslave our souls. Silence shall tie our hands While they strip off our clothes Please their hands in our lions. And even then Silence shall not Let us moan in ecstasy. Link to the Italian…
Lip Prayer
Your lips are mine and mine are yours. May my lips forever glorify and honour you. May my lips be truthful to you. May my lips calm your blazing brow and bring healing to your aching muscles. May my lips mop up your tears. May my lips dry the sweat of your toil, from your…
Sometimes Love
Sometimes love Is running for your life When your tanks are still full Of oxygen, When your heart is still alive, When you can still hear its sound Lub dub Lub dub Sometimes it’s saying “No more” And run for your life. Sometimes love Is choosing yourself, Is Loving yourself, Forgiving-yourself, Mending your own scars,…
[Black] Privilege
Knows to call someone before hand, know someone before hand, or someone who knows someone before embarking on anything required by the government. [Why stand in line when you can afford to pay the necessary bribes to get the documentations you need?] Convinces me to pull out my English when asking for a service so…