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Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
He could have walked away,
For there were many a reason to do so;
But he never did;
He was there through the highs and lows.

I gave him many a reason
To walk away for good;
And yet he stayed beside me
While I was in his neighbourhood.

There were panic attacks, crying,
Semi madness, paranoia;
All the usual consequences of
Being assaulted a year earlier.

There were so many times
I expected him to be gone;
I warned him in fact that -
I’m not worthy – my people are gone!

There is no need to put up with me,
Its not good for your health;
I’m used to people disappearing,
I’ll deal with things myself.

For I am being punished,
It’s how its meant to be;
At least for those of us assaulted
....in the middle of the sea.

But of course he didnt understand,
He’s from a different culture;
He wasn’t afraid to hold my hand
And protect me from the torture.

He has probably never met anyone
As mad and unstable as me;
Coming to stay in Soweto
And feeling so totally free.

He saw my love of Soweto,
For the children, the people, and more;
He spent so much time exploring his home with me –
He’d learnt which combi to get door to door!

When I had to get to clinics,
Not just one, two, three, or four (!)
He spent two days right there with me
As we waited hours to reach the door.

He didnt have to do that,
He has work to do back home;
Yet even when I shouted at him –
He never left me alone.

Of course I apologised later,
Tried to help him understand;
That my brain does its own thing,
Yet he was still there to hold my hand.

He never once walked away,
And thats when it occurred to me;
What a complete cultural contrast
....to our “people of the sea”...

My “family” are now Sowetans,
Although i’ve known that for a while;
When the clinics registered me as an “African”
All I did was smile.

Of all the times I thought i’d given
A reason for him to abandon me,
There was one in particular –
Where he’d be fully justified to flee.

To protect yourself i’d understand,
You may need to walk away;
And yet he didnt – he put himself at risk
...to protect me, I have to say....

It’s not an easy place to live,
He could have walked away;
I’m forever grateful for his bravery
And that he didnt walk away.

For a place where for so long,
Segregation was the norm,
It has come such a very long way –
Since the day I was born.

My culture, mixed as it is
Has not suffered in this way;
Instead it shuns and alienates people
....if they “dont obey”....

Well done South Africa,
Though the problems you face are not gone;
You could teach a lot to “my people”..
..a culture that needs to be re- born.
Written on Mandela Day 2018; an account of the total contrast I found in a society so different to the one in which everyone I know...walked away.
Keen Jun 2016
I want to take off my body,
Like a used lingerie.
I don't want it anymore,
I feel too empty nor valuable.

I want to change who am I,
To begin anew.
For every damage that can't be undo,
For all those nights that I cried.

Too afraid to close my eyes,
Having angst that the memory of you will chase me.
I feel remorse for myself,
For letting you dig inside me,
For being too shabby for my self,
And for letting you ruin my life.

My life.
My life not yours.
From the time you had me,
You never once think of my life.
It was all about you, it was all about your desires.
It was all about your happiness, your thirst for mine.

Of what you did to me,
It will always haunt me.
The remains of you inside me,
Were a nightmare,
A nightmare that chases me,
A stranger who have no clue of who I am,
But still continue to plunge his desires on me.

I am writing this not just to seek for your sympathy,
I want you to understand.
How to be empty,
to be lost,
to be disgusted
and to be the topic of town,
and to be me.

-

shn 6:7-16
Help me with my title please, any one?
jordan Oct 2015
My tombstone would read tragedy. But you were no Romeo, and Juliet was not me.
You didn't have to take your life to make me want to end mine.
All you had to do was leave the first time.
Your grave would be dug deep to make up for your shallow heart.
How does it feel when your words make your daughter hang like the art on the walls in the house you left her in last.
How does it feel knowing she can't get passed her own past that you've helped make worse.
How does it feel to take away the pleasure of her first love being her first.

The only gift you gave her was the habit of flinching when others touch her body because she thinks it's you coming back to finish what you started.
She can't bear to look people in the eyes because she can see her own pathetic reflection.
Instead, she glances at their hands to see if they're made for affection rather than being strong enough to hold a grip around her throat like a noose.
It's hard for her to remember a time before the abuse.

She was so young when she learned to hold her breath in presence of a man in fear of reminding him she was there.
A sitting duck with nothing but hope for the drugs to keep him calm but the high never lasted that long.
My mother thought it was a good idea to bring him back into my life.
I think it hurts more when they know what they're leaving behind but i don't mind.
Because being left twice never felt so nice.

— The End —