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Mamolefe Jan 16
There’s secrets we hide under this skin.
Swallowed tears and oceans. Chants and earthquakes.

Yet, the secrets I often find are in between breaths and prayer.
Alchemised in our folklore and decoded in our beads - transcended into patterned clothe - spread through our beliefs.

We are spells

carrying keys beneath these tongues that could unlock time and serenade the gates of heaven. Songs that make us meet the avatars that linger in our bones - wishing to dance their way into the days that we now breathe.

Our, history, lives in us. Heaving in the vernacular we almost forgot.

Our history, is being reborn in Shamanic spirits coloured in Indigos, browns and blues. We are Prophets and Holy Souls. Dreamers and See’ers. Amens and Ase O’s.

It finds us through our mothers’ hymns and fathers’ laughter. Hides in our grandmother’s bedtime stories. Is reborn in the waves that lick the shore.

We are the eclipse.
We are the shadow.
We, are the black hole.
Mamolefe Jun 2023
I carry Love.

I carry Love.

I carry, a love that resuscitates my ancestors while I breath in laughter.

Where the ball inside my throat hurls fire - makes love to the sun
scares shadows
intimidates death and
offends darkworkers.

A love where God’s water breastfeeds me at the bottom of the ocean - baptising my blood and transforming my saliva into gold.

It knows me, wants me, and always,
finds me.

I carry Love.
Mamolefe Nov 2022
Sometimes I feel like the human race is a reflection of the night sky.

Our street lights acting as constellations to consciousness
connecting the dots between our worlds,
colours making love at midnight.

Stream lights mimicking the rays of the sun.

Our screams personifying the echoes of meteors
and our whispers as faint as shooting stars.
  Nov 2022 Mamolefe
Love letters of a different kind,
read you and you read mine
maybe? we haven't
posted for quite a while,
your mind
strikes thunder
my heart mints your words
for all our fears
winter, spring, summer, or fall
family blocks,
trees, not treason,
one of us two of an eye.
we are all.,
Mamolefe Nov 2022
some days, i feel like my words are too small.
that they lack exclamation marks and coloured pens.

like my pencil is too blunt or my ink too dry.
it’s as if I do not have enough secrets to tell.

i hide behind spaces. sleep inside an ellipsis. i coil like a question mark and sometimes forget to dot my i’s.

will you hear these words that whisper like thoughts?
will you feel them like braille?
can you spot them like capitals?
It’s important to hide in our shadows. It gives us time familiarise and then defy our demons.
Mamolefe Oct 2022
I often find myself chasing gold these days.

Whether it is burning my fingers raw as I dig under sand
or by starring zealously at the sun.

Yellow and Orange have turned into my favourite colours of joy and pain. It’s tones hiding secrets I wish to understand behind my own skin.

They are forcing me to fast through bananas and naartjies; discipline myself with lemons and butternut.
Mamolefe Apr 2022
I was first born a solar system.

Living in a realm where I wheezed stars and suns. My eyes, black holes to a new universe.
It was a time where planets burst from my belly and latched onto my ******* - no longer hiding in my vortex of a womb.

The world swung around my neck heavily. Steadily, I adorned my fate gracefully...

...because I was born second a mountain.
My hips creating hills and heaps while my tears birthed oceans. I carried the crescent moon in my left eye - Venus in my right.

And often times, I’d shape shift and kneel to the ground, grabbing the soil of the earth.
Its mud, dancing under my nails and knuckles. Its dust, smouldering the creases between my palms.
Sand, caressing and matching the tones of my skin. Accenting hues from the palette of eternal life.

My mouth, birthing spirits and spells. Souls - mining from my ribs.
My womb, carrying ancestors and avatars - Coloured girls glowing in browns, blacks, purples and blues.
Their nebula personifying secrets from Zion as they break through the realm between my legs.

As I continue to carry my message in the wind; breathing life into lifelessness;
narrating stories of hope in times of hopelessness; morphing my magic across the abyss.

I was born third a Nubian.
A Maasai, I am the one they call MAKEBA.

Walking these townships streets as though diamonds lay at my feet.
Gliding on gravel from the ghetto to Greece. Leaving behind a fragrance so sweet.

Blessing the unblessed even when left distressed. Honoring the feminine power that flows within me. The roaring lioness! Smell the audacity of my celestial essence. I am the first to bleed, but last to fall – the S forever embroidered on my breast.

For I am you and you are her and we are She! MAKEBA!

Inkosazana. The melanated fruit that you seek. You stare in disbelief at these words that I conceive.


Ke mang a tshwara thipa ka bogaleng? Ke mang afang botho mo batho ba hlokang motho? Ngubani le mbogodo elingabambeki?


My eyes, carrying alchemy.
My smile, a treasury. My skin, reflecting the origin of humanity.

A piece by Mamolefe Molefe & Reaorata Mashaba.
“Ma” meaning Mother and “Keba” meaning fortune, health and spirituality - which is of Tanzanian heritage.

In this collective project, we bring to life the artistry and alchemy of the Black Woman.

The Mothers of the Universe. The originators of man. The true, living form of God.
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