Sadness lines these walls
the way that dust
lines the corners
of books you bought
when you had a
hunger for words,

now, the act of reading
them, smooth
as their covers,
effortlessly slipping
through your mind,

I am not my sadness,
I say, over and over
like a heartbeat,
a belief so vital
to my life as
the clenching of
that *****

and yet
and yet

I am sad

I understand the world
best as a challenge
a fight to win
or lose
survivor. warrior.
beaten and bruised
I understand life
best as a puzzle
something to be
unpicked and
pondered until
the pieces merge
together into a
jigsaw, jagged and
incomplete. I'm panicking
now, can you feel it?
feel it burrowing into
you like a root?
I will plant myself there
and grow. from your
ash stained heart,
a tree of pink blossom
flowers, blown
away in summer
but pretty for a
brief spring

I have broken the bars
and shackles of
faith

in a world
where repentance
is everywhere

and the fear
of God makes
prisoners of
us all

a woman
of God

I try
to be

but sin
is in
the air

as much
as salt
ia in
sea

my lust
licks
the heart
of my
lips

there are
body parts
I am blind
of

the shame
of being
thirty five
and never
know the
touch of
a man

drawing
a map
of the
world
on my back
with his finger
in my sweat

the arch
of it
when his hand
casually marks
Africa

A woman of God,
I am not

But a woman,

a tender lover
my head folding
into his neck
as if the angles
had been calculated
exactly, beforehand

I am earless
in the face
of the battlefield
that every woman
crosses, every day

I am clever
a devourer of booka,
article, savagely attacking
tainted tabloid trash

I am a Godless woman,
but a thousand times more
a woman than God could make me

After years of wandering alone
hearing mountains moan into
the sunset, uninhabited beaches
spread into the ocean like the
arch of the moon

I stand at your door,
sopping wet and weary
back bent from carrying eighty
litre backpacks across ancient
roads that only the locals
knew

I said to myself, I have found me

as the roots of the trees arched
around my feet, their rough arms
folding around me, the earth
moving to the beat of my heart
the wild bird song stinging
my eyes with tears

I said to myself, I have found me

but you stand their
arms outstretched
the laces of your shoes still untied,
(and it still infuriates me!)
the smell of vegetables, rudely unplanted
roasting in a metal ***

as my head moulds into your shoulder
like tar

No, you say,
you found your way back to me

I ask to be planted
into the earth
like an ancient
tree,

so that I may
shed my leaves
in the fall
and grow
new skin
every Spring

I envy the
Oak, Birch and
Ash, ancient
trunks that do
not stain with
the agony
that lingers
in the air

palpable

the rain
is full of
it and yet
they do not
wither and
decay

root me
in the dirt
so that I may
too, feel
pain

and survive it

Another sleepless night
Memories piercing
Fear and shame

The paralyzing thought
That I’m the one to blame
Guilt, what did I do or
Say to deserve it

What did he steal
That day?
More than my dignity
And worth

Every piece of my
Heart, body and soul
I am just a shell

Flesh and bone
Shaking through
Nightmares that
Twist the pit of
My stomach

That reach the
Black root of
my heart

How I do I simply
Put it behind
Me and move
On? As I am
Told to do

When I am timelocked
In that moment of
Terror

The world is turning
Spinning forwards
At breathtaking
Speed

Yet I am planted
Like a root
In history