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Aisha  Sep 2018
South Africa
Aisha Sep 2018
Hues of gold hug the horizon,
The air is heavy with the scent of a rainy day,
A pride of lions moves its limbs with a motion of might,
A motion of magic precedes the pack.

A dragonfly bounces along the river of relief,
The sun sets its final shimmer of sophistication
Behind the silhouette of a striking baobab.

A pocket of air holds the wings of the stork in a mathematical manner,
as it sweeps over of the plateau of promise.

South Africa,
A nation in progress,
Where each combination of skin tones each have a story to tell of its own,
a story of history,
a story of might.

Long live the pride of lions,
the Giants of our Rainbow Nation who sow seeds of sunshine in every corner of the soil.
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika.
- this poem is dedicated to my country, South Africa. May we become a nation of prosperity and light regardless of race, religion or creed. Let us honor the legacy of our forefathers and emerge as strong and beautiful in every sphere of our existence.
We screamed to be heard, marched to express our rage. To bleed with our fallen sisters, for I am her, and she is me. We all lived each other’s suffering.

The dust has settled now, quiet returned.
Yet I still can’t breath. I am still not safe.

I cry silently for my country. I no longer connect to her. My love and pride is only filled with disappointed. She has left me sad, and empty and afraid.

My son asked me, “Why do you refer to South Africa as a she?” I look at him dumbstruck, he continues, “Perhaps SHE has always been a HE!”

This realization is hard to swallow.
This... scares me half to death.

— The End —