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…
Beauty Knows No Shame
A new kind of beauty to embrace and to celebrate There’s no room for shame here There’s a power that pushes through from within There’s a power that will push out and bring my bloody insides with it… But that’s something of a pain that I’d love to succumb to in a natural, agony-sedating, physical…
A self portrait
This is a portrait of a woman that was born in pain… and is longing for change… A woman with a rough kind of beauty… a one not easy to pick up, hidden behind all the easy common ugly… A rebel kind of woman… so much rebel it got me getting out of heaven doors……
You Are Woman
For a season barely eons old Immersed myself in quietude Awaiting the day woman shall step into her own Trapped in this cloud of silent obscurity How does the world blithely pretend? For all the good there is out there Permit me to lay it bare How they sweetly make compelling claim Liberate the woman;…
Greet Africa when you return
I greet you AfricaI greet you from Cape to CairoI hug you with arms of my sister from SomaliaShe implored me: Greet Africa when you return. At Southern Theatre we metOn a gray Scandinavian eveningBut the African sun still shone in her eyesThe effusive Nile flowed into our handshakeConnecting us in an…
My son Nok
You turn your head away“He is my son”, I say“He was taken out of my grip”, I sayHe learnt how to shoot with a gun. He shot from village to villageenemies we all becamelapena leaves couldn’t hide uswe were handed blankets, beans and poshointernally displaced we became. Then I heard he was dead.“He is my…
Loving God
Have you ever fallen in love with the sea Loved her so fiercely Your orgasms are unending Uncompleting. Unrestraining. Damn… I love when she’s mad When she reaches out in waves Tidal energies immobilise my senses I rise into her Deep into her Feel her heart beat In the middle of her vulvic ocean Motion…
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…
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…
Men-struation
You don’t know the history of my pain. I am Junub A woman in end-less men-struation Buying daily your pads to c-over and protect my skirt from stains I continue to bleed afr-aid to speak of my periods But now I say, “I am in pain, help me.” Silent guns shoot though…