vangile gantsho

vangile gantsho is a poet, healer and co-founder of impepho press. Unapologetically black woman, she has partecipated in literary events and festivals both in Africa and abroad. She is the author of two poetry collections: Undressing in front of the window (2015) and red cotton (2018). She holds an MA from the University currently known…

Stank with Sweat

The brave face I wear is never washed It stinks with sweat my mother’s and mine She taught me how to put it on to fit my wobbly bones to be the face that you would know My brave face has a smile it lasts for thirty seconds and plays back after a minute It…

Nyeri

I almost became that man’s second wifeI twisted my underwear here and thereI hynoptised myself that he was the oneI always thought of him. Whenever he sent me a text message“I suit you like the cover of a jerican”I would swing my hips to his tuneHe was my man. I waited for him at the…

Mothers Sing a Lullaby

(after the 1994 Rwandan genocide) Mothers sing a lullaby As the dark descends on trees Shutting out shadows. The sensuous voices swish and swirl Around shrubs and overgrown grass Hiding mountains of decapitated dead And the glint of machetes That slashed shrieking throats. In these camps without happiness Mothers maintain the melody of life Capturing…

Ellipsis

I am a poem unfinished. A color that was not good enough for the rainbow. A desert that never knew what a sunflower feels like in its soil. I am a coral reef that was touched and lost its vibrant colors. I am everything that is nothing. I am rubble of everything dismantled. I am…

Let me

Should I use my pen or lips to talk about the things that trigger me? And if I talk will you be able to listen and discern? But why is that my gender intentionally creeps and mocks at me? Maybe I should be silent like a dead bell but How am I going to change…

Aria Deemie

At just 24 years old, one might not expect such acute awareness, such tangible sensitivity, capable of recounting raw and painful realities with clear, transparent, effective words. But we are in Liberia, and she belongs to a generation born while the second civil war was still raging, enduring its effects in the difficult civil and…

Bessie’s Lament

“Wherever you go, please don’t forget to take care of your sisters and brothers. Remember that you have a suffering family that needs your help.” My parents woke me up early Sunday morning to pray for me and bid me farewell with pieces of advice during our family devotion. I’d leave later that day to…

Fixable

You are fixable Hold my hand and let me mend your brokenness. It will hurt less the falling and crushing You will get better at sculpturing your bits and pieces. I won’t leave. I’ll wait for daybreak and we’ll figure out what to do with all this sunshine. *** Link to the Italian translation

Let Me Enjoy Me

I Am Human Female Coloured Black Breathing bits of my sensibilities Let. Me. Be. Let Me feel Me and breathe Me And sip my beautiful self Taste my mind intoxicated by My thoughts Let Me enjoy Me And know how beautiful I can be The brown of my skin… a rainbow of brown Red yellow…