Her Majesty
I am a woman of Power
An African Woman

We may all lay under the same stars but I praise beyond the earth
We may all walk on the same soil but I conquer the roots

I am An African Woman
They may all talk but history is in my name
They may walk in the essence of nature but history are my footprints

Only the candle was the witness..
It happened in the dark , with no sound .

Communicating through saliva
Feeling your heavy breath arouse me as
You summoned my heart , constantly
Lacing my body with your hands...

Disvirgined my conscious with your
Whispers  and dimmed my creativity
deeply into commotion of love .
Untouched lands within me you discovered ,
Lands never been explored by
lovers who were lazy to travel but
In me , you built a home .

•Refilwe Mametja

I may be young but I have bruises and scars .
I may be young but my tongue speaks otherwise .
I may be young but the footsteps I took left my feet in dirt .
I may be young but my heart only captured the pain , gave out the pure and benefited the dirt .
I may be young but my name has been called in different ways ..
all I have left with me is memories ...

The pride I walked was covered between my thighs .
My mom would tell me not to play around men but I though she hated the opposite gender but as I grew older I learnt she wanted no boy to play between my thighs .

Everything changed one night when he actually went on the corner of my bed , in the dark when felt my tiny legs with his hands but he still continued . His hands pushed my body against the wall , kissing me like I liked him and pretended to be in love with me .
I remember clearly that night when he would tear up my dress , and squeezed my little body into pain to find treasures within my skin.
Hit my head against the floor and started ******* me like a little ***** . Cried my heart out but my tears to him became the hit .
His cologne forever remained on my skin..

•Poetess_her. Refilwe Sharmein

They thought I was Happy ..
As a slow death was behind me..
A slow , painful death I hid behind my emotions,
As a single tear went down, counted the number of days I’m left with .

•Poetess_her. Refilwe Sharmein

Melanin is my clan name
I’m a thousand galaxies untold ,
A poem never recited and
a flower never watered .
The hate of my colour is genetically motivated ...

The softened of my lips is what keeps me melanin .
Dark skin color , sugar -marmalade taste of my wildness , like a panther with brown eyes .
Uncomfortably when I walk into a room with no color like mine , the  confidence they **** when they ask if my hair is real .

“Radiant browned-skinned girl”
- My Black is synonymous to darkness of pride .
A skin raw like cocoa , with a scent of rich cinnamon that came from my natives .
Just like when my identity fell...

I hold on to the reigns of this soil .
Her Majesty who speaks her mind and gives birth to every word she says.
-Words rich in thoughts and expression , assumes labor with her mind .
Let not my thickness hold back the kiss of my elevation and my lips stick to the colour of my skin , blending into the natural shade of my melanin ..

I spend nights in my skin , embracing Melanin as my favorite coat ..

•Poetess _her. Refilwe Sharmein

’

Listen to the voice of a young black girl, a voice of passion and compassion
Liberty and liberation ,
Listen To the voice of a radical young girl, a voice of courage and character .

Listen ...
My mother land no longer claims me,
For my voice is deep but not deep enough
to call peace upon my land.
For when I voice the unapologetic black Woman in me, they say I'm too loud.
I was not screamed into this world for my inner voice to be drained and silenced by the society.
I am wrong because of my chocolate skin
“Mommy ,Why is it that the dolls in the stores don't look like me ?
“Is it because my skin is the wrong colour or my hair is the wrong texture?”

Listen..
I am the only flower on earth that grows unwatered, the only plant in the garden that grows
without the nurturing of the sun .
I have a name most don't know , because I don't fit within my perpetrator's trivial limitations.
When will I finally given the platform to voice myself?
That  boy down the street just called me ***** again , he said the colour of my skin is a badge of shame.
I'm tired of being oppressed
They say I'm beautiful when I straighten my hair, Rub bleach on my skin ,**** in my stomach.

I have been taught to break my character to be desired while I can't achieve the respect of my own kind.
But Listen , I am a black girl


•Poetess_her. Refilwe Sharmein