Truth

So for now I’ve chosen to forget
How I cringe every time the memories blind me
How the shame envelopes me
Even though I didn’t ask for it
Even though you were the one who violated me
So now I’m here left with the invisible scars
Reminders of that moment
Those seconds you dared to corner me
Paralysed me with just a touch
Unwanted
Not asked for
I stare at the blank pages
Ears dulled by the din of the full room
I dither
Unable to find the words
That will convince them
What I say is true

stranger, gone

Sometimes I like walking with my eyes fixed on the ground. My bored feet start to kick over rocks uncovering uselessly precious treasure. It is then that i stop to wonder if it is all worth it.

The other day while looking for directions to his place, I found myself in front of an unfamiliar building. Something about its pretentious facade reminded me of something I’ve seen before. Somewhere I’d been before.

I carry on heading, with purpose, to this place where I hope he will be.

It probably helps that the slight breeze of spring had replaced the heaviness of the wintry wetness. Goodness knows, the flimsy dress and sandals don’t provide much cover.

We finally meet. Strangers whose souls had probably met in another realm. I know because  eyes recognise mine from across the street. The bodies milling around us, separating us from the moment.

Something happens. A hint of lightning rumbling. Distracts him for a second. A delivery truck passes by. Hiding him from my view only for seconds. When it finally passes. He’s not there.

Gone. The word leaves my lips. How do I? How do I? These words keep playing over and over in my head. Because I know what I saw.

My anthem

Perhaps this is my anthem
My soul’s call
The place where your strings stitch my heart whole
Remember that time we said we’d wait
For the right moment
Where your stars and my moon align
An intersection

Perhaps this is my mind’s way
Of getting rid of problematic dreams
That refuse to leave me during the day
Nightmares holding my sanity ransom
Even when your sun has overpowered
The shade threatening to take over

Maybe stars never align
Maybe moons forget
Maybe the clouds need to be reminded
That even the sun needs a break now and then

Grandma

I don’t know her name
I’m told she was bold and crude
I cannot recount the history of her time
Yet I’m told the marks on my forehead are hers

In 1939, he died
I’m told his grave is in this vicinity
I danced a homecoming dance around where I hope his bones may be
Summoning him to recognise me

She’s rumoured to have moved around
House to house with her goats and sheep
A woman alone with her young children
I’m told she was bold and crude
Tough living made her black skin impenetrable

Men came and went
Her bold spirit remained
A stained cloth she sometimes used to wipe the soot off her weary brow
Resilience isn’t a thing
We talk about
It’s a place we occupy
Whether we choose to or not

I may not know her name
To know she was bold and crude
Is enough for now

Hostage

The relentless demons of a beautiful imagination hold me hostage long enough to witness the next day’s rising Sun.
I whisper goodbye to the passing night as I try to slurp sleep slowly to avoid losing it again.
The loud banging inside my chest begs to spew the layering bile as far as i can reach.
Your nearness makes it too easy to detest you.
To allow the taste of your sins pepper my palette

I don’t own your transgressions
Your selfishness can never be mine
I don’t have to feel shame because of who you’ve chosen to be
Don’t think of me
I won’t remember you

baby fat

They tell me ‘he’s beautiful’,

‘He has dreamy skin’

and ‘a perfect smile’.

Some even say, ‘I could just eat him up’.

I nod and smile.

The sweat around the folds of my belly

streaming,

uncomfortably in the spot where my son sits on my hip.

A constant reminder of the ravages of pregnancy

And what happens

when the baby fat simply refuses to budge.

I smile

even though my soul longs

for the body it used to inhabit…

i am afraid

I’m afraid regret will make me more bitter than I already am
I wear it like a second skin
Close enough for its stench to be a constant reminder
Of why I hate
You
Of why I hate
This
What we’ve become
Familiar strangers
Circling in suffering
I am afraid regret causes me to murder you a thousand times each day
I allow it to fill my chest until I can’t breathe
Heavily it rests, waiting for me to release
The hate of me
I harbour

the bind

When everything hurts,
dancing in the rain
just doesn’t feel the same.
Mingled tears taste different
when the heart is heavy.
The poisonous stench of anger
clings to my skin
like an unwanted gift.
The aura of your presence
an absent reminder, daily.
Trudging through messy memories
that refuse to leave my mind’s eye.
Like a movie on repeat,
my imagination playing tricks on me.
Sadness envelopes us as I miss the simple passing of beauty.
I search your eyes for a flicker of something
to pacify my disbelief.
Stuck in this space of gloom.
Unable to move
Because our ring binds me to you;
you to me
Burdened by my pensive hands.
Restrained.

Mr Meantime

I offered you refuge.
Your exit from the inside.
Bursts of freedom
now and then.
I was a reminder that even
shackles have spaces to manouvre.
Late nights spent
gazing at moons,
wishing upon stars for a time we had no idea would ever come.
We talked our way into many dawns.
Unable to go home,
arrested by the possibility of the electricity between us.
I needed you as much as you relied on me.