I am seventeen The moon giggles shyly and caresses the skies Sipi Falls cascade in a wave of excitement. I waltz with the falls downstream A tinge of warmth engulfs me My feet rub… My future. The village awakes It is the rite season The search… She descends with a knife I grip my tears…
Brokenpieces
Screaming, yelling Stop please stop, Don’t hurt her no more She wasn’t built for it. Her body can’t handle it, Or maybe it can, at least that’s what she thinks now. Just because a bone gets stronger after you break it, doesn’t mean it has to, The bone does get stronger, but it’s not the…
I traverse the world
I traverse this world as though As though I am not supposed to be here Not as a Christian with a view of her heavenly home No I traverse the world as though Permission must be granted Permission must be granted to sit in that spot Swim in that pool Of ignorance That paved open…
A Nation in Labour
The Republic is in labour Screaming pacing the political ward cursing the colonial midwife for telling her to push. Her head is spinning vision blurred mind inside out. She drinks a cup of counterfeit morality and blubbers a prayer of hope for the stillborn baby. The Republic is a headless chicken with a body that…
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…
Abigail George
Abigail George is a South-African feminist, poet and writer based in Port Elizabeth. Born in 1979, she is a prolific writer: she has written a novella, several books of poetry and collections of short stories. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the recipient of two South African National Arts Council Writing Grants and of one from the Centre for…
Jambula tree
When Sylvie and I are six we eat jambula till our tongues turn indigo then we travel home with night licking our heels. In the morning, our foreheads still anointed in violet blessings, we twine our stick-arms around its branches and stuff banana fibre dolls in the hollows of its roots. We swaddle make-believe babies…
Dear Daughter
Dear Daughter I have never loved myself enough To laugh through the rough times I have seen different colors Fading in the beauty of the flowers I have woken up to different nightmares Only to calm down through the power of a Prayer I know of those days when I needed someone beside me to…