Maybe you will be a chronicle that none reads Except the one who makes the entry Or you will be a Facebook post Few will skim through Their fingers automated To click the like button. I don’t know and cannot tell And don’t care what you will turn out to be Because all I need…
The River
The riverThe unlimited waterThe beauty of natureDark in the night, blue in the day but am colourlessHow well I have been shapedHow soft I have been createdBigger than water but smaller in quantityI conduce smaller things like pinbut carry bigger things like ferryI Am welcomingI create power but reject powerThe river is my nameThose that…
Hypersexualization of the African woman
Fetishized My worthiness is measured in cup sizes and big booty. Integrity is dismissed and compromised. Body parts named policed and sexualized. They say: “it’s the sway of my African belle derriere the clumsiness of my breasts the fullness of my lips and the arch of my back”. Objectified by the media, my nudity is…
Black Photosynthesis
Deforestation isn’t just the cutting down of trees. It’s the cutting down of black women’s self esteem. It’s when you turn us into pretty furniture to sit on. Make textbooks out of our bodies And then use our broken spines to bind them It’s when you pull us out of the earth We were so…
The Mirror
I look in the mirror. My reflection I expect to see. But what I see is not my reflection. What I see is truth! An image blurred with pain. The sorrows of the world. The troubles we face. Told as a story by the mirror. The stories. Never spoken. Yet, told in detail. By the…
Mooncycles
My heart is broken fragments disintegrate into sand laid upon a beautiful beach. As my moon creates tidal waves to wash me away. What once intertwined between my licorice laced thighs? Now matted and sharp thorns grow there, where my love once lay to blossom. I am rotten. Heart wrenched like torn ligaments on strange…
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…
Self-Negotiation
The thought of physical contact has begun to scare you again. 1. One morning, in the middle of breakfast making, your mother’s relative reaches out and grabs at your breast. Your mind trips into your memory and you are seven years old and another woman is playing x and o’s with your privates. 2. Maybe…
Pain: Who Am I?
Pain too has got beauty The beauty of pain is healing When healing comes Pain is remembered But Pain is not felt Pain too has got depth The depth of pain is lesson When lesson comes Pain is remembered Pain is felt Pain too has got malice The malice of pain is death When death…