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Mar 9 · 44
His Name is Callum
Nomkhumbulwa Mar 9
He lives just round the corner,
A little boy of only 4 years old;
Born so long before his time,
He is not a typical 4 year old.

He has already survived so much,
Just in this very short time;
Conquered everything he has faced,
Time and time again.

He is kind of a miracle,
Or at least I think he is,
For in his earliest days
Only his mummy truly knew he would live.

I changed my last verse
As I failed to give him credit,
Nobody knew if he would pull through,
But I believe his mummy knew he would make it.

She too is a miracle,
A pillar of never ending strength,
She deserves a poem of her own,
To make it all make sense.

But I chose to write about Callum,
As he is a very special little boy;
After all that he has been through,
He has brought with him so much joy.

He's had tubes up his nose,
Things pumped into his belly,
But taken it all in his stride,
Eyes glued to the telly.

He may be a little behind,
In terms of speech and development,
But he certainly makes up for that
In terms of enjoyment.

He battled to enter this world,
And so rightly so;
Callum firmly belongs here
Anyone who knows him would say so.

His speech has come on leaps and bounds,
Just in these recent months,
So nice to hear him talking,
Talking and able to make sense.

He does have his melt downs,
Not able to get his point across,
But all to be expected,
We line up cars and let it pass.

What I really wanted to write about
Is what he has done for me;
This little boy with all his problems
Has had such an impact on me.

I do not think about what he cannot do,
What he can say, whether he can tie his shoe,
I simply appreciate the way he is,
And focus on what he can do.

In my struggles in my strange world,
Callum is an absolute delight,
I know his mummy sees more of the other side,
I've only been there for short periods of day or night.

For anyone with anxiety
Callum is highly medicinal;
One of the many reasons I believe
That he is a medical miracle.

I maybe shaking before hand
But after spending time with Callum,
I leave calm and relaxed,
As well as having had so much fun.

With his cheeky little smile,
And a head once full of many curls,
His little eyes would melt anyones heart
They light up the room, as he pulls it apart.

He's now a tough little cookie,
He's shown that many a time;
Whether its suffering cold after cold,
Or outside barefeet on the stones!

He knows how to get up to mischief,
We play the light switch game a lot;
He knows what he wants from the kitchen,
He will take you by the hand and tell you whats what!

To me Callum has a bright future,
Regardless of being a little behind;
There is so much more to life,
Than just doing things at the right time.

To me its a "symbiosis",
In Biological terms,
I look after him,
But he helps me too, in return.

I dont know what he will be when he's older,
But I do know he's already a therapist!
"Callum sitting on prescription"
Should be a common request!

I could write so much more about Callum,
But my brain right now is in a mess,
Although when I see him again,
I'm sure he'll re-wire it, and put it to the test!

He is a special little boy,
With a bright shining light;
A bright shining flashing light in fact -
We all know how much he loves lights!

One day he may be embarrassed,
When mummy reads him this rhyme;
When he's old enough to understand,
And to reflect on these lines.

But Callum, all I can say is Thank you -
For brightening all our lives;
Thank you so much Callum-
You help me to survive :)

....lots of love...Aunty Emma :) ***
I wrote this a while back, for my neighbour.  But I didnt want to share it until I had given it to her.
Mar 8 · 58
Fundamentally Flawed
Nomkhumbulwa Mar 8
Why is it that we feel so fundamentally flawed? We are never good enough, never enough, are never understood, always bring about anger. We may be educated, but we feel so ******....we are looked down on as the "******" one. The one who talks *******. We are somehow ALWAYS wrong. We are wrong. Its so tiring, trying to do good, and yet always failing. Failing somewhere. Trying to help others, we fail eventually. Stuck like this, feeling like an imbecile, who needs to be avoided. Hiding in this house, a prison. They look down on us. We might write, poetry, stories, music, no one is interested, no one wants to hear, there is always something wrong with it. Can never be heard. We are ignored. Perhaps by the ignorant, yet ignorant people can make us feel so weak, ******, and irrelevant. We may feel overly sensitive, to protect those we love (not related to us, yet have become adopted families), and in doing so we are met with anger from our own. We are a disgrace,. A disgrace to society. Deserve all the pain. Nobody wants to hear us anyway. Nobody really cares. You see, they think we are "doing it for attention"...attention seekers.....out to hurt everyone else. Thats what they think. If we dare speak out - they ignore. They think to ignore is to teach us a lesson, it is to stop us from speaking about our pain. That we need to learn to stop talking about it. To keep it to ourselves, because we do not matter. It feels we do not matter at all. We are fundamentally flawed. And always will be. The good we do for others, is never enough. Its just NEVER enough. We face criticism even for WANTING to help others. Nobody understands. And maybe thats because we are fundamentally flawed. How can we ever be understood.
Its not really a poem, but I was encouraged to share it as a piece of writing that I had shared in a group of people faced with narcissistic abuse. As they could all relate to it :(
Feb 27 · 132
Now that you are gone...
Nomkhumbulwa Feb 27
You were my everything,
I've always known  you were special.
But only now I realise,
How much I needed you my little girl.

You were my constant companion,
Never left me alone,
Always by my side,
Even after I left you alone.

You forgave me everytime,
I left you home alone,
Sometimes months at a time,
I was gone.

You trusted me always,
At the door on my return,
Waiting to greet me,
But I could tell you were concerned.

You had been abandoned,
Early in life,
I know you had a difficult start
Moving from shelter to shelter is no life.

We were supposed to be together,
I knew I needed to help you,
Rescue you from a sad untimely death,
And give you a loving home.

You had nowhere to go,
All those years ago
I couldnt let you die.,
You had to come and be mine.

You were more than just company,
You were a true friend,
They told me you didnt like cuddles,
But I found out thats all you wanted in the end.

You helped me more than any human,
You were so loving and kind,
You understood everything about me,
You were there when I lost my mind.

You let me cry on you,
You saw me cut myself,
But you never ran away,
Although I know you didnt want me to cut.

I loved you very much,
And I know you loved me too,
And I hope that you understood
How much I really loved you.

You saved my life one morning,
When our smoke alarms failed,
The house filling with smoke at 5am,
You got me out of bed.

Even Qasem loved you,
For when I was stuck in hospital,
He got over his fear as a Muslim,
He made friends with you, didnt mind your poo.

I always knew how you felt,
You showed me your disgust,
When I brought home the school gerbils,
And you pooped on my bed in disgust.

You looked after me in Aberdeenshire,
As I looked after you,
I know our house was very cold,
You got used to the coal fire so soon.

You helped me move back to Arran,
Im sorry for how stressful that was,
Such a long time to spend in a box,
But we had no choice but for trains, boats and bus.

I had lived here before,
But for you it was all very new,
Yet you adapted so quickly,
Walked out of your box, like you knew.

I know you were happy on Arran,
You settled in so quickly,
It was liked you'd always lived here,
Maybe because we were close to the sea.

My people got fewer and fewer,
But your loyalty was forever,
I know sometimes you were hungry,
We were both hungry at these times.

I never meant to neglect you,
And I know you understood,
I'd do anything so you didnt go hungry,
When I couldnt get out of bed.

I cooked fish from the freezer,
Though I know it wasnt your favourite,
I never meant to make you sick,
Your body just wasnt used to it.

I am sorry for how much I left you,
You lit up my life when I returned,
I trusted the people left to feed you,
Knew they'd take care of you while I was gone.

I was so happy to see you,
Looking healthy and content,
With your bright yellow eyes shining,
And your comforting purr of content.

Thank you for looking after me,
Many times you kept me going,
Although I have wanted to die,
I could never leave you my darling.

I had to stay alive,
I know you needed me,
No one else could be here for you,
And I know how much you loved me.

I may have gone away at times,
But I was always pleased to see you,
I knew you were here waiting,
And I always thought about you.

You became my only companion,
Nearly everyone else had gone,
You showed so much compassion,
You never left me alone.

I got to know you so well,
You went out a little in the sun,
But you never wandered far,
Wanting the door left open for a quick return.

Im sorry for the times you got stuck outside,
I know it didnt happen a lot,
But you always went to hide somewhere,
I know the fear now, it can be too much.

I know how it feels now,
I get the panic and fear too,
My legs collapse for no reason,
I know how it must have been for you.

When you got so sick,
I hated seeing you in pain,
But I knew you still wanted to be here,
And I kept promising, mummy will end the pain.

You were like a little angel,
Took your medicine so well,
Let me feed you by syringe,
You wanted to be here still, I could tell.

But then you were in such pain,
All night you'd lie so close to me,
Resting your bleeding tumour
Against my neck, the pain I could see.

Then I knew you didnt want to be here,
You were tired and had had enough,
You looked at me, trusted me to end your pain,
The tumour bleeding, swollen, you couldnt close your mouth.

I knew when you sat out in the cold,
You wanted it to end,
You were hoping you would die,
But I didnt want you to starve, so your body was still strong.

I could see you were in pain,
I could feel it too,
I even got used to the smell of your tumour,
So close to my face, as I tried to comfort you.

I'd wanted to give you diazepam,
But I knew from my training its not right,
But I did give you extra pain killers,
On your very last night.

I didnt want you to suffer,
Anymore than you were,
And it seemed to help you settle,
And these nights would now be no more.  

Mummy asked the vet to come tomorrow,
You had told me it was time,
I let you listen to the birds and music,
Comforting you until she came.

I wanted to take you to bed again,
But I know that would have been wrong,
I didnt want to end you life,
But otherwise, I would have been cruel, and wrong.

You enjoyed your last meal,
Some tasty treats came in the post,
You had more medication,
To ease the pain, as the time drew close.

The hours seemed to last forever,
But I was happy to see you at ease,
The vet came to our house,
You had your sedative on my knees.

You are not keen on strangers,
And tried to go and hide,
But the sedative worked quite quickly,
I picked you up and cuddled you till it was time.

Your body went limp,
You were so sleepy,
And the vet shaved your leg,
Much more humane that the heart, I agree.

Then she injected a huge dose of barbiturate,
Your heart stopped almost instantly,
Mummy wanted that injection too,
You died quickly upon my knee.

Now you are in the garden,
And I am so sorry,
But I did everything I could,
I cant let you in anymore, but I really wish I could.

I am really lost without you,
More than I expected,
Never knew i'd feel this alone,
Dont know what I expected.

The house now feels unsafe,
The panic does things to my body,
Nightmares wake me up,
And now you're not here to help me.

I wish I could have gone with you,
And we could still be together,
No more pain for either of us,
We'd be together forever.

I am so sorry Tiggy, please forgive me, thank you for everything,
love from mummy ***
I wrote this for my cat.  Pathetic as that sounds.  But I loved her so much.
Feb 21 · 69
This is Not Love
Nomkhumbulwa Feb 21
You send me gifts,
You send me cards,
You sign it with a kiss,
But this is not love.

You send me emails,
Tell me to write back,
I do yet dad never replies,
This is not love.

You belittle me,
Mock me,
Humiliate me,
This is not love.

Your words torture me,
You think its ok to hit me,
You justify your cruelty,
This is not love.

I have tried to explain,
I have never blamed you,
I needed the distance,
This is not love.

You dont listen to me,
You turn family against me,
You are ashamed of me,
This is not love.

You blame me,
You shame me,
You will never accept me,
This is not love.

You go behind my back,
Telling people you want to help,
Yet you only ever scold me,
This is not love.

You refused to listen,
Just continued to blame,
Telling me its not good enough,
This is not love.

Others have tried to tell you,
You are making me sick,
But still you will not have it,
This is not love.

Everything that happens to me,
How you would abuse me,
You can only show anger,
This is no love.

You have pushed me so far,
That i've lost my mind,
I've lost all hope,
This is not love.

I have had patience with you,
Told you I understand you,
Yet still its never enough,
This is not love.

You want me to visit,
You will pay me to visit,
Pay to make me more sick...
This is not love.

After I was assaulted,
Your anger was relentless,
The blaming, the shaming,
This is not love.

Screaming and shouting down the phone,
I was forced to listen, I had no control,
Telling me id caused so much damage, made people sick..
This is not love.

All I got from you,
Was yet more torture,
More abuse, no empathy,
This is not love.

Ever since that day Ive known,
You cannot be my mother,
I cant treat anyone like you did,
This is not love.

I cannot understand,
What it must be like,
To have zero compassion,
This is not love.

You tortured me before,
Then you tortured me more,
Now you want me to come back?
This is not love.

Mum - I do not hate you,
And I mean you no harm,
But you have caused so much damage,
This is not love.

I am certainly not perfect,
And neither are you,
But i'd never want to hurt someone,
This is not love.

You see ive studied narcissism,
Ive dedicated so much time,
Trying to understand you,
Reaching the same conclusions time again.

I know its not your fault,
I will never blame you,
But you simply will not understand,
That I cannot love you.

All you've done is prove me right,
Though for a long time I doubted myself,
You made me doubt on purpose...
Mum - this is not love.

You are a textbook narcissist,
Im sorry if you think im wrong,
You rejected my suggestion of getting help...
This is not love.

After I was *****,
I knew you'd react that way,
Yet your anger still sickens me,
It sickens me to this day.

It proved to me once and for all,
That you can never be my mother,
Maybe we could be friends one day,
But you are not my mother.

Mum we have no bond,
We never have had one,
All you've shown me is disgust,
This is not love.

Others may be on your side,
I've read up on that too,
You hurt me to your own advantage,
This cannot be love.

Im not trying to hurt you,
Disrespect you, or anyone else,
Im only now protecting myself,
For what we have...is not love.

You turned all those I love against me,
But thats what narcissists do,
Im not the only victim you know,
And I do know your love is not true.

I am sorry mum,
It is all I can say,
We both need to fix ourselves,
Then maybe we can meet someday.

But after all this abuse,
I am sorry to say,
That I do not love you,
This is not love mum, I now see clear as day.

Im tired mum
Please let me go....

Take care **
Sorry another depression poem written spontaneously in the middle of the night.  Another one directed at my narcissistic mother, although I have never really planned to write about her, it just happened.
Nomkhumbulwa Feb 13
One minute fine,
The next minute not,
It may be freezing cold,
But my brain is boiling hot.

The tingling sensation,
And then the trembling starts,
I cannot feel my legs,
Yet how I feel my heart!

The environment is spinning,
The air is getting thin,
No matter how fast I breathe,
I cant get enough oxygen in.

Things enter my mind,
I try to force them out,
But the harder I try,
The more they come back and shout.

I feel im going to faint,
Im feeling so sick,
I cannot run away,
All my legs let me do is sit.

My legs get weak and heavy,
My brain doesnt know whats going on,
Everything becomes something to fear,
The floor, my clothes, hair... and so on.

My mouth is dry like paper,
My body is sweating yet cold,
Where did all of this come from?
Is this what its like to get old?

My body feels frozen,
But my brain is running around,
Playing tricks on me,
Where there is no danger to be found.

Breathing exercises dont work
Though they make sense normally,
In the moment of panic -
You lose all sense of reality.

The images enter your mind,
You try to force them out,
But the harder you try,
The more they refuse to get out.

Everything becomes a danger,
I will say one more time,
Every object becomes a weapon,
And slices through your mind.

The nausea causes more panic,
The panic responds with more nausea,
What a horrific cycle,
How to stop it I have no idea.

****** functions fail,
The digestive system especially,
But now your afraid of the toilet (!)
Though you need it in a hurry.

The trembling is so intense,
The fear so intense,
You struggle to make a call,
Your mind and body losing control.

Diazepam becomes your best friend,
You'd worship it if you could,
Its often there to save the day,
..Although at other times you just wish it would...

The adrenal glands are to blame,
Im not the Adrenalin rush kind,
My adrenal glands are evil,
How can they be so cruel and unkind?!

I dont like my adrenal glands,
Im an ***** donar - but if I die please be warned,
DO NOT TAKE THE ADRENAL GLANDS,
...then again, with the right brain, they could be your friends?

Its the "brain- adrenal gland" combination,
Which is of the ******* kind,
Perhaps if brain sent out the right signals,
My adrenal glands might understand.

There is a time and place for adrenalin,
I have sampled many myself,
But this is just not one of them...
Yet - subconcious brain fears itself...

That is it.....the brain "fears itself"...
Well, I tried to put words to the panic...
Not sure if i did it justice.  I could have written more.  So much more.  Anyway...didnt really know / plan on writing it at all! :/
Jan 30 · 103
Thirty Nine Years Old
Nomkhumbulwa Jan 30
It wasn't the best birthday,
Not that 39 is exciting anyway,
But I wasn't quite prepared
For what my brain threw my way today

What is even the point?
In turning 39?
Next year Clare and I are going to Ethiopia
- to sneakily go back in time ;)

38 was old enough
But still not quite that bad
39 is a lot more daunting
For there are no more "30's" to be had

But a few days ago I met a friend
Who just turned 70 last week
What was even more shocking
- she is still much fitter than me!

Her grandson is now 17
I once taught him to bake cakes
Back when I shared her house
Duncan was at primary school for goodness sake!

I don't know if Clare feels the same
About this weird age to become
Or whether as some say its just a number
My 70yr old friends are forever young

I have so much admiration for Clare
With her determination to succeed,
She does make me feel younger
Although turning 39 is still **** - it must be agreed :/

But I was determined to make the best
Of the last year beginning with "3"
Although I dramatically failed
Got dressed, panicked, then ate grapes until tea...

I did let down Teresa
I admire her so much too
We were supposed to eat cake
And how I miss our conversations about poo..

But here I still am
Dressed for both Africa and the North Pole
Required a walking pole to get to the pub
With snow turned to ice - it wouldn't be pretty to fall...

But I finished my day with a whisky
A wee dram to still being 30 something
A single malt Aberlour came to my rescue
To compliment the huge amount of Diazepam

I shall try again tomorrow
Looking forward to seeing Carryn again
So I officially cancelled my birthday
And tomorrow I will try again

But my goodness how Im so grateful
To some very special friends
Here in Aberdeen,
Mary and Glyn are those friends

My brain tortures me frequently
And today we had so many plans
They all went down the toilet
Quite literally (!) but gladly from the right end..

So generous are my adopted family
I can never be grateful enough
For putting up with my panic
Understanding my brain says its "had enough"

It might have been a ****** birthday
But I don't know where i'd have been
If it were not for Glyn and Mary
And their endless compassion and understanding.

To all my friends - sorry for being "weird", and I really do appreciate all your kindness with all my heart.. ❤️
Well - it kind of says it all really :/ Wrote this as I come to the end of a difficult birthday which I shall attempt again tomorrow!   But also to show my deep appreciation for such good friends.
Nomkhumbulwa Jan 7
I am sorry mum
for everything,
For who I am,
For what i've done.

I am sorry mum,
For everything,
For what im not,
What I havent done.

I am sorry mum,
For staying away,
For being with friends,
For being far away.

I am sorry mum,
That I am ****,
For what I wear,
For the state of my hair.

I am sorry mum,
That my opinions are wrong,
That I spoke without asking,
For the things that I know.

I am sorry mum,
That you think I dont care,
That I have upset the family,
That they never wanted me there.

I am sorry mum,
That you couldnt love me,
That I wasnt normal,
That other people like me.

I am sorry mum,
That I have expressed things,
That I have dropped things,
Caused a mess in your home.

I am sorry mum
That I wanted to study,
That I liked being outside,
And that I looked untidy.

I am sorry mum,
That Im an embarrassment,
Have caused so much shame,
And that I cause you pain.

I am sorry mum,
That im always a disappointment,
Showed you my photos of Africa,
I know now that I shouldnt.

I am sorry mum,
That I didnt have the right friends,
That I didnt wear enough make-up,
That I read about Science, not fame.

I am sorry mum,
For being vegetarian,
For picking out bits of meat,
In front of everyone.

I am sorry mum,
For when I didnt know what i'd done,
And you had to stand on my foot,
Or pinch me ******* my arm.

I am sorry mum,
For going walking,
For not doing house work instead,
Or finding something else to be done.

I am sorry mum,
For my work with charities,
For my love for Africa,
For feeling there so free.

I am sorry mum,
For having weird phobias,
And letting you down,
By mentioning it to others.

I am sorry mum,
That I struggle with Maths,
For being dyscalculaic,
I know this is bad.

I am sorry mum
For causing you sickness,
And for not being there,
I know it looks like I dont care.

I am sorry mum
For upsetting others,
Being the cause of all problems,
And hurting my brother.

I am sorry mum,
For my choice of work,
For the places i've been to,
For not always putting you first.

I am sorry mum,
That I made you so angry,
You had to hit me in the face,
And I made you go to bed unhappy.

I am sorry mum,
That I was quiet in school,
That Claire was my best friend,
That we were both quiet in school.

I am sorry mum,
That I chose Scotland,
For moving far away,
It cannot be forgiven.

I am sorry mum,
For my musical instruments,
I know I dont play them well,
That I gave you a headache instead.

I am sorry mum,
That I played the violin,
At my brothers wedding,
For you- ruining everything.

I am sorry mum,
That i;ve never been good enough,
That I always let you down,
I am just never good enough.

I am sorry mum,
For speaking about family,
For letting you down again,
And the family.

I am sorry mum
That I struggled so much,
You had to put chilli in my mouth,
As I couldnt do my homework.

I am sorry mum,
That I went "home"
That I let the **** happen,
That I spoiled your "name".

I am sorry mum,
That I do not love you,
I have cursed myself and tried,
But I cannot love you.

But I still hear your voice,
And it tortures me still,
And the thought of your anger,
Still gives me chills.

I am so sorry mum,
That I am a failure,
But I am no longer "Emma"...
...I am "Nomkhumbulwa"....
Back to the depressing style sorry :(  This could have been much longer, but think ive bored people enough.  If you can understand it, then thanks.
Nomkhumbulwa Jan 6
Enthusiast is a bit of an understatement,
My friend Claire could tell you that;
As we hiked from the West coast to the East coast of Scotland
At night she read "normal things" - while I read maps.

Of course I needed to be sure of the route,
But after 25 miles of walking that wasnt all-
I'd spend at least 3 hours staring and staring
The roads, the woods, the rivers, hostels, churches, pubs and schools....

In fact night after night I spent,
So long engrossed,
That after five nights,
I had one of the strangest dreams ever experienced.

I was "in" an OS map -
Walking a yellow road, past big red triangles,
Counting contours,
And heading straight for the strangest of all -
Just across the red road, the enormous half filled pint glass
- the public house of course!

Surreal dream that was,
But also great fun,
I was in an OS map...
One without people - I was the only one

I did ease up on the map reading after,
Thought I might start hallucinating otherwise,
Claire already thought I was slightly mad,
If I told her we needed to shelter from the rain in the giant pint glass - well, as I said, she already knew I was mad!

But my obsession is not limited to OS maps,
Oh no, its the entire World Atlas;
Continents, Countries, Oceans and territories,
Nothing escapes my attention in the World Atlas.

I have so so many maps,
Because people keep changing things,
From the names of Countries and places
To minor details...bridges...silly little things.

I have a map that says USSR,
The Soviet Union so large,
Now I have another with Russia,
Belarus, Estonia, Ukraine, and others that re-emerged.

Even isolated places like Greenland
People cant make up their mind,
Is it Nuuk or Godthaab?
They are both still there to confuse the mind.

I had a map with Zaire,
Once the biggest country in Africa,
Its now the Democratic Republic of the Congo,
Needed to amend my map of Africa.

Ok, all maps up to date;
Just when I can rest my map brain...
Sudan is then split in two!!
Get out the map Emma - quick - draw a line!!

I dont know what I think would happen
If my maps were not up to date;
But I just cant take the risk,.
I have to change them before its too late.

Most recent of course was Swaziland,
How? Why? When?!
Its ok, i've read about it now,
And I understand...let me get my pen.

But Swaziland is so tiny
Now I need to write eSwatini (!)
My map is now such a mess
Time for a new one? No not yet - Swaziland has not yet changed like the rest!

I have to wait for cartographers
To catch up and make all the changes,
Or otherwise i'll only trust my own map
The one with scribbles all over the pages.

Its not just on a Country scale
Such changes do confuse us,
For even in South Africa alone -
New names replaces the oldies.

Port Elizabeth,
Now Nelson Mandela Bay;
I think its wonderful,
But its not what my map says!

Umtata became Mthata;
Another very welcome change,
But that one letter is on my mind...
Quick - cross out the "u"...in case we go insane!

Nothing is more messed up in my guide books,
Which consist almost exclusively of maps
Than the city of Durban....
Street names have changed...but "not quite yet"

I picked up a local map,
And not shown in the one I carried
- Its still in process of "changing",
So two names there are for almost every road!

Pretoria became Tshwane,
Again I agree with the name change,
But by now the maps in my book
Make so little sense - it could be mistaken for Adelaide!

I wont go into Rhodesia,
There have been so many changes across Africa,
But if they were before I was born,
It somehow doesnt seem so much to matter...

I only get frustrated with
Things that I know,
Before 1980 -
I had no maps to know.

I'd be talking about the Transkei, the Ciskei,
The Orange Free State and all,
More recent but left in the past -
I have none of those on my walls.

I focus more on Africa,
as most will know i'm a bit obsessed,
Being from a British Island on the African Plate,
...with Ascension drifting away with America...albeit very slow.

The Mid Atlantic Ridge runs between them,
From Iceland to the South Pole,
Dividing the Continental plates,
St Helena and Ascension came out of a hole...

My mind drifts a little to Asia,
Although I dont know it as well,
But...is it Burma or Myanmar now?
And is Palestine shrinking still?

Islands cause much fascination,
Being an Islander myself,
But mine is just the tip of a volcano,
The map doesnt show anything else.

As far as Islands go - the Atlantic is easy,
Try staring at the Pacific,
Such a vast and empty ocean,
Hides many secrets...more than the Atlantic.

You may think St Helena isolated,
But only till your eyes enter the Pacific,
It might be a huge mostly empty ocean,
But the vast Island chains are prolific.

There are fracture zone after fracture zone,
Creating Island chains and coral atolls;
From the Coral sea of Australia,
To the Galapagos of South America.

There's Polynesia, there's Melanesia,
Micronesia too;
And within these - hundreds of Islands...
And yes - I've tried to count them too..

We look for other British Islands,
Pitcairn - the most isolated of all;
And what a sorry story to tell..
About 60 people and half of them in jail...

Sometimes im desperately trying to find an Island
To replace my British non-British Island;
Those who think im mad loving South Africa-
Wont even begin to understand.

But this poem is not about emotion,
So i'll mention that no more,
Its more about Geography
- too many Islands to explore.

Staring at the Pacific
Can occupy at least three sleepless nights,
Remembering the names of the islands -
Is a much more difficult plight.

Most heart breaking about this Ocean,
Is the Islands being lost;
Populations having to leave,
As sea levels rise and coral islands are lost...

I think I have found my location,
or a few i'd give a try,
On a large map they simply appear as "bumps"
Surrounded by bigger Islands, and the ocean wide

Sleepless nights have drawn me to Tokelau;
A tiny territory of New Zealand;
Three beautiful coral atolls...
But oh so far from New Zealand.

Less than one thousand people,
Yet with their own language,
The closest Island is Samoa,
That boat journey for me would be a privilege...

The Island has 100% clean energy,
With so few people to sustain,
It's setting an example for the World,
Tokelau looks like "paradise" on my map....if I had to give it a new name...

Indigenous people full of colour,
Flowers round their necks and some clothes a recent thing,
They even have their own musical culture,
Its only mass worry is rising tides - and the flat atolls eventually submerging....

There is another island I look at,
With its tribal peoples far more "untouched",
It really is like a land time forgot,
Although it does have an airport..

It is the Island of "Mog-Mog"...
Yes...I didnt make that up..
It really does exist,
Although I admit it took me years to discover on my map...

I wont mention where it is,
I dont want to give it away;
My maps are full of secrets,
And that is how some should stay.

You can visit from Tahiti,
Which is more like France than its surrounds;
But Mog-Mog is a totally different world,
Dont be fooled by Tahiti - Mog-Mog is part of the "untouched surrounds"

I could talk about these Islands forever,
As even I have not discovered them all,
But I have to finish with the Indian Ocean,
The Chagos Islands are British afterall...

What happened to the Chagossians
was a cruel sin of humankind,
Not just ST Helena suffers at the hands of the British
- Chagossians were forced to leave their Isle behind...

To make way for an American Air base,
Ascension - how familiar does that sound?!
The story of the Chagossian tragedy
Must touch every Islander to be found...

The Chagossians also inspire us however,
For fifty years on they are still fighting,
Fighting to return to their homeland,
Now a heavily guarded secret is their homeland...

My people however dont seem to care,
And that does make me sad;
This is another British Island
Not in the Atlantic, or Caribbean - but that does not make it bad...

The powers at be are so evil
That even after the fifty year lease was up..
The British just signed yet another...
As for the Islanders - they just want forgot...

I support the Chagossian people,
In their desperate fight to go home,
Even after deportation-
Their British Citizenship rights are next to none...

I am not proud of my motherland either,
And im not the only one;
I dont consider myself even British,
I dont "worship" my motherland like some...

I see what is really happening,
In St Helena and other "Crown Territories",
Just take a moment to look at them all....
and let me know if you find any that are totally "free"...

....oppression comes in many forms....

........................Nomkhumbulwa...
This isnt my usual style; it was heavily influenced by a huge amount of Diazepam.  But hey - its less depressing than usual....
Dec 2018 · 119
A Poem With No Title
Nomkhumbulwa Dec 2018
They never spoke again,
I have waited a year and a half,
I have reached out time and again,
But there comes a time when enough is enough.

I cannot force them back into my life,
Cannot force them to utter just one more word,
I will always love them just the same,
But their silence causes so much pain.

It feels like a whole population died,
Been wiped clean off the Earth;
And knowing in reality so many think I lied,
Just makes me want to run away and hide.

I cannot do anymore than I have,
I have forgiven them for how they treated me,
I completely understand the culture, though its sad,
I cannot go back and change what happened to me.

I miss them dearly,
I think about them every day,
I think about the pain I caused them,
Now in my history they will forever stay.

I long to have contact with cousins,
Aunties, Uncles, and friends,
But I know this will never happen,
And I will likely never see them again.

Its all so mixed up in my mind,
The events that caused me to be singled out,
If id had the choice, I would have gone to court,
Because then I would have less doubts.

I am disturbed by memories,
And also by the suicidal hanging,
And knowing that my people,
See me at fault for everything.

It makes me feel ***** and ashamed,
That I, and the other women are still blamed,
And for what is it that we have done?
To be born as "women" is all we have done.

Kevin, Maisie, Clare, Anna,
Eileen, Rita, Peter, Barbara,
Candice, Kerry, Alex, Teeny,
Susan, Wendy, Dennis, and Jelly...

Those names are so very few
Of the huge number of relatives I have,
I still remember the day at the refuge,
When you turned me away - even that made me so sad.

If it were not for South African women,
Running the refuge out of sight out of mind,
Then there would be nowhere for Island women,
Nowhere to turn, yet these women were so kind.

But I know the rest of you still look down on me,
As you no doubt look down on many others,
And what did we do to deserve this?
To be born as women; in that you are so disgusted.

Disgusted with me for questioning abuse,
For speaking out for the others,
Disgusted that I have broken the "silence",
For women are not to be "free", I have discovered.

For if women are to be "free" - then they must be alone,
Discarded by all and everyone,
For "causing you pain",
For "shaming the Island's name".

I still love you -
And always will,
You hold a special place in my heart,
That no one else can fill.

.....I was born a woman - entering this World having already committed the crime....and for that I am sorry.
Random middle of the night piece.
Oct 2018 · 694
Doctor Bryan Hart
Nomkhumbulwa Oct 2018
This title could have been different,
Damaged by a doctor came to mind,
But in the end and without your consent
I chose your name, not to be unkind.

It needs to be there loud and clear,
For all the damage you left me with,
You will probably never know or care,
For the damage you left me with.

The outburst of rage right in my face,
In a hospital of all places,
Labelling me a manipulative liar,
A cruel, attention seeking waste of space

I am aware now that you were sick,
And for that I do not hold against you,
But what you did to me has grown and grown,
It has grown to the point where I hate you.

For now I dont know who I am,
I question my memories, my very existence,
You broke my confidentiality,
Spoke to my abusers without my consent.

I have had similar done before,
And yes from the same profession;
But that was out of sheer ignorance,
And the persuasive ways of the Exclusive Brethren.

He was a GP and I complained,
I received an apology, and I have now accepted,
I dont hold any grudges against him now,
I know how the Brethren can be very deceptive.

But you are more than a mere GP
You are supposed to be an expert,
An expert in Psychiatry
So your views remain - people tend to trust experts.

The thing is now I distrust myself,
You took away my sense of self,
You took away my identity,
You took away at this point - my entire family.

I do not blame you for all my issues,
Abuse from narcissists is very deceptive,
But by playing into the hands of my abusers,
You have taken away every desire I had to live.

I knew not that you were ill back then,
I left the country in a hurry,
I ran away from the pain and confusion you caused,
I ran away back to my  only "trusted" family.

The scar you left me with is still open and raw,
And now I have yet another,
In fact as time passes I have more and more,
The scar first inflicted by my mother.

Now the wound is inches deep,
And of course there are more,
There are the ones I have to create myself,
To take away the pain, and everything else.

The scar you left will never fade,
Now I firmly believe the words you spat,
In that chair right into my face,
On the hospital bed I sat.

I believe im evil and cruel,
I believe that for everything I am to blame,
I believe I deserved everything I got,
And what i'll never forget - is your name.

Now I question almost everything,
I dont know who I am,
I certainly do not trust anymore,
I dont know how  can...

Did the assault really happen?
I ask myself every day,
Because of the words you put in my head,
They are there to stay.

Your conclusions on me reached ST Helena,
So I was viewed with suspicion from many,
By those who were supposed to help me,
Not just from my family.

Although you have taken them too,
For yes, dont worry they now believe you,
They were what I had left,
Apart from the abusive few.

Your views fuelled my peoples attitude,
To ****** assault towards women,
It existed already of course,
But you gave them more reason to blame women.

I am completely alienated,
I have nobody and nothing left,
You took away my sanity,
And he...took away the rest.

I came close with the help of **** Crisis,
To taking this to court,
But of course these things are mishandled,
He was told but a free man until court.

He hung himself, thats what he did,
To avoid facing the shame, blame and hate,
The exact same as what us women face,
For him - with death its too late.

My people take this somewhat differently,
As what other British people might do,
They see this as yet another reason,
To say its something he didnt do.

This adds yet another dimension
To what you left me with,
How on earth am I supposed to know.
If it was real, what he left me with.

I dont trust myself, I trust no one else,
Due to that experience with you,
I have such a deep seated hatred for myself,
I now speak to only very few.

You took away even my Nationality,
For I am no longer Saint or even British,
I have seen enough in South Africa,
I have realised that I am no longer British.

For what you have done is make me feel safe
In somewhere burdened heavily with rapists ,
And for that very reason,
There are many people I can associate with.

A place of **** and ******
Is now my safe haven,
From St Helena to South Africa,
Who would ever have known.

There I am able to trust,
But here - no never again,
You have left me with such a deep wound,
When im here I just feel insane.

Now the tears fall again,
As I write this stupidly long rhyme,
But I cannot keep it inside,
Its all building up over time.

Because of you im not trusted either,
By anyone in the medical service,
Im treated with suspicion,
In fact im not treated at all by the service.

So I suffer alone with pain and distress,
Not knowing whats true and what isnt,
Not wanting to be seen by anyone,
Feeling like a total delinquent.  

You see what im trying to say,
Is that you damaged me MORE THAN A ******,
You misused your powers,
You abused my trust.

I wish I could get you out of my mind,
Because now all I can do is hurt more,
Just keep hurting myself,
To take away what I cannot ignore.

I could write so much more but wont,
I will just say one thing more..
I feel so sorry for Glasgow,
Glasgow deserves so much more.  

You could work here no longer,
And so that should be,
But does Glasgow not have enough problems?
Why now should these people suffer like me?????

........by Nomkhumbulwa.
One of the causes of many of my issues......thats all I can say.  Sorry.
Sep 2018 · 1.9k
What about Burundi?
Nomkhumbulwa Sep 2018
Why is this still happening?
So silently, yet still reported;
At great lengths they will go
- to make sure its reported.

Although the Government are in denial,
We are grateful for those who report
The ongoing slaughter of innocent people
Men, women, and children are caught.

Journalists themselves are risking their lives
To tell the world whats happening;
There can be no more dangerous a place
From which to report the sickening.

So where is the world?
The situation is dire -
And unless action is taken
...its going to catch fire.

People are still leaving,
For Tanzania,
A country now turning them back
Back home to face their fears.

But where are the World?
What is holding you back?
How can you just sit there
And ignore these attacks?

For I for one cannot,
And I have no power to act,
All I can do, is spread the word
And hope someone...will act.

Yes there was a time,
When a hundred thousand were killed each day,
That is hard to comprehend,
Not just for me - but for locals who got away.

It may not be happening quite on that scale,
But the fact that it is still happening,
Surely is warning enough.....
And the Government is in denial...

I am worried for Burundi,
But why is no one else?
How can you just sit there
- are you leaving it for someone else?

The attacks are still happening,
Day after day after day,
Bodies are still being found....
Before being rushed into the ground.

Such brutality is hard to stomach,
And I have the stomach for much,
But when I encountered the plight of Burundi,
That was just too much.

I dont know if I will finish this poem,
Because the images I now have are horrific,
So what must it be like....
For those having to live there with it?

Imagine the fear,
The total despair,
And the feeling of more
- that the world doesnt care.

It can be no wonder
That this little country
Is the unhappiest on Earth,
It is so clear to see.

Or for those who choose maybe
To see what others refuse,
Or ignore, or belittle,
Cover up- whatever word you use.

Each day there are reports,
Women and children found dead,
Their throats have been cut,
Bodies lay with no heads

They are *****, they are tortured,
For hours, days, or months,
There are forced disappearances,
- those run into the hundreds.

A machete is no longer an agricultural tool,
It has become a symbol of terror,
It is used to slice, tear, stab, torture;
It is a symbol of ******.

What must go through these peoples minds,
When they see someone with a machete,
What was once a necessary tool,
Now been used to butcher so many.

The genocide may be over,
And few even know it took in Burundi,
But the torture, the butchering continues
It continues horrifically.

I am a strong person,
I have read about, seen, and stomached a lot,
But there is nothing that even comes close
To how this puts my stomach in a knot.

The info is there if you seek it,
And please do - its risky to report;
I wonder how much more blood must be spilt
Until someone decides those responsible must be caught

The images they are many many,
The videos they are there too:
But why is it just me seeing this?
Where are the rest of you?

The day I saw the video,
I will never forget,
After what I had suffered myself,
Again I will never forget.

I do not regret what I saw,
For I believe it to be necessary,
Necessary for people to see,
But - those in Government - not me.

Now I have to be careful,
Because of what I saw,
That video put me in hospital -
It triggered something in my core.

It is spread through desperation,
To get a message to the world,
But I was one of only 3 to have seen that,
Maybe rightly so, but also absurd.

Pictures are horrific enough,
Sometimes missing parts are "shaded",
But then comes along another
The shadings not there, its a person beheaded.

But it it not the effect on myself,
Which pains me so much,
It is the fact that this is still happening,
And the world is so out of touch.

I now have to be careful,
But I will not stop,
I wont stop spreading the word,
Until this killing in Burundi stops.

The graphics are hard to put to words,
The testimonies harder still,
But I have tried to help you see,
Without making myself more ill.

The Imbonerakure,
The youth wing of the CNFDD,
Even seeing that word now..
Makes the panic rise within me

For they and the security are responsible,
For the majority of the brutal killings,
The ****, the torture, the unthinkable,
People are not even safe when leaving.

They come out at night,
The raid peoples homes,
**** entire families,
While others watch on.

They harass in the streets,
The harass at the borders,
They are everywhere,
Butchering as they are given orders.

The President thinks he was put there by God,
This is nothing shocking I know,
For for Burundi it means a lot,
It means he may stay for ever, death will be all they know.

There are memorials built,
To the many genocides to take place,
Each containing thousands of skulls,
Cracked where the machete went through the face.

Thousands and thousand of skulls lined up,
Of course there are no bodies -
From "Ear to Ear" was how the saying went,
As each head was cut from its body.

It has become so common to find someones head,
Something that for us here would cause fear in itself,
That now in Burundi there are proverbs and sayings,
School children quote wise words from these heads themselves.

Headless bodies float along the river,
Headless bodies dumped in bags with the *******,
A machete taken to the throat and then to the torso,
Ripping flesh, drawing blood, organs pulled out of the body for show.

For this is a living nightmare,
Blood flowing down roads and rivers,
Finding a hand, a head, a liver...
Would make many strong people shiver.

People are literally hacked to death,
Occasionally they are shot,
If I ever found myself in that position
I would outright beg to be shot.

The person I saw die in the video,
Took way more than 10 minutes for sure,
As hit throat was cut, he was stabbed, his skin ripped,
His blood spurted violently across the floor

I refuse to go into more detail than that,
For thats the one that triggered me,
I will never watch it again,
But I do want those in power to see.

Will someone please help Burundi?
I feel I have not done it justice with this poem,
The machete, the blood, the horror...
Please help... we all know who is to blame.

We all know....
Sorry for the graphic nature.  I rarely write poetry not driven by my own situation, but this is one I also cannot ignore :( And its not a very good poem, so apologies.  Hard to express it actually.
Sep 2018 · 264
Who Am I?
Nomkhumbulwa Sep 2018
Who am I?

This is how it feels,
Total solitude;
I dont know who I am,
My body wants no food.

What have I done?
I must have done something;
Everyone and everything gone,
I must have done something.

Something terrible, something wrong,
For why would I be so alone?
It seems like so long,
Since I have felt “at home”.

I dont know where home is,
Where do I belong?
Home is where the heart is,
What did I do wrong?

I have let people down,
And not just one or two,
I have let people down
Here and in the South Atlantic too.

How can there be so many,
And now no one?
The fog seems very thick,
Everyone has gone.

How can you belong
When you dont fit in?
How can you forgive,
When you know not what you’re forgiving?

Was it me or was it them?
Now we shall never know;
I never meant to harm them,
I did no wrong....but even so...

When they are so many,
And your memories not so clear,
How can you even trust yourself?
With a mind filled with fear?

I know them,
Do they know me?
How can it be possible
That they cannot see?

I must have done wrong,
I must have deserved this;
There can be no other reason,
I must have deserved this.

I feel evil and cruel,
Never meant anyone harm,
But it seems I must have done,
Ive caused so much alarm.

How do I trust my memories
If there is nobody left?
Why dont I know what is real?
How can there be no one left?

My earlier writing met silence,
I heard from not a single one;
It seems no one wants to know,
I feel they blame me for what I “have done”

If it was my fault afterall,
How do I ever put things right?
Is he dead because of me?
A dead man cannot fight.

Nothing makes any sense,
What is right or wrong,
Just a mass of confusion
About where I “should belong”

Are the things in my head real?
Can they be trusted?
Or have I caused so many lives
To be completely shattered?

There were people on my side,
Yes, only a few;
But now where have they gone?
I wish somebody knew.

I am tired and confused,
I dont know if I was abused,
How can I ever know for sure?
When im so confused.

The world is no longer real,
I dont know who I am;
How can anyone heal?
If I dont know who I am?

The world now scares me a lot,
I dont want it to see me;
Im hiding in this “internal place”
Yet at the same time wanting to flee.

Everything is disturbing,
Nothing is how it was;
I want to hide from everyone,
And I have no answers.

But I am being called,
And the calling is so strong;
There are people I DO trust,
A place where we are...”at one”.

Some may think im mad,
But for me I have to go;
I left my soul in Africa,
I left it in Soweto.

I have to go back and find it,
To find myself as well;
And perhaps bring it back this time..
Only time will tell...

Its going to be a mission,
Im taking gifts for many;
The postal system’s ****,
But the people are worth every penny.

Please Mandela let my brain function,
So I can help those who need me;
As all the time i’ve spent with them....
....i’ve never felt so free.

UNkulunkulu akubusise Soweto ❤️
A poem I forgot I had written some time back  I think its fairly along the lines of my others :(
Aug 2018 · 124
From myself To myself...
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
How could you be so evil?
For there is no other way to describe
Your whole sense of being,
You are rotten inside.

Disgusting and disgraceful,
How can you be so cruel?
I hate you, everything about you,
Just like when you were at school.

There are no words to express
The evil you have inside,
The pain you are inflicting,
You’ve even caused suicide.

How can you do this?
To a society stretched at the seams?
You are a waste of time and money
And your dreams – are they really dreams?

How can you be trusted?
For you are diagnosed a liar;
You are not welcome in society
Nobody welcomes a liar.

What if none of it happened?
What if it wasn't true?
What if you made up the ****?
The only criminal here is you.

You have hurt so many people,
Your family and so many more,
You deserve all the punishment given
For your actions they simply deplore

What if the nightmares aren't real?
The fear and panic all fake?
What if none of it happened?
How much of a mess could you make?

You are a disgusting creature,
I hate, I despise, I deplore;
It is categorically impossible
To forget or try to ignore.

You are a black mark on society,
You do not belong in this world,
You don't deserve any friends,
You deserve no place in this world.

Where do your memories come from?
Why do you invent ones not real?
Do you not have any empathy
For how people really feel?

You are hated by all and everyone,
Yourself included if not more;
Nobody wants to know you,
You stay right behind that door.

Don't you dare show your face,
For you are not welcome;
Stay away from everyone,
You will only do them more harm.

You have a sick mind, how could you?
How could you cause so much distress?
Your spitefulness has shown no limits,
And you couldn't care any less.

You are a diagnosed a liar,
A deceitful, sadistic disgrace,
Nobody is ever going to believe you,
Such liars should not show their face.

There is no help for evil like you,
Services are there to help others;
Not to be wasted and drained and abused,
And how can you keep blaming your mother?

They do not have time for your fake memories,
Your fake life events and horrors;
There are people dying every single day
Nobody cares of your night terrors.

You need to sit in a hole and stay there,
For the safety of everyone else,
Just stay there, do not come out,
For we must protect everyone else.

Nobody is here to beat you,
So you must do it yourself,
Keep cutting and bleeding and bleeding,
Cut deeper to forget yourself.

Watch the blood as it runs
Keep cutting, don't let it stop,
This blade will pierce your evil soul,
Its painful, don't let it stop.

I am going to keep punishing you,
More and more and more...
This blade will pierce your body,
As you lie in a heap on the floor.

For there is no other way out,
You MUST feel this pain,
For this is for what you have done to others,
Over and over again.  

This is all you deserve,
Feel the blade pierce your skin and then bleed;
For your blood is the source of your evil,
The evil on which you make others feed.

This pain will last forever,
I will never be done with you,
I just want to keep making you hurt –
Until you know what is true.

Now cut.....
All I can say is I am so sorry for the graphic nature...
Aug 2018 · 205
"Why did you come back? "
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
This is the question they ask me,
And one which I struggle to answer;
For it is not something I gave much thought,
And I really dont know how to answer.

It plagues me every day,
For you are still - ALL of you..."gone";
Why did I ever go back?
Had I been away for too long?

Perhaps I was being selfish,
Wanting to go back and see my Nan,
Wanting to go back to my roots,
To be on the ship while I still can.

To go back to where I felt I belonged,
I had waited ten years to go back;
And I still dont regret my return,
I dont see it as a reason for "attack".

I thought I had a family,
But it is quite clear that I do not;
For I struggle to find any answers
For this place that time forgot.

So it was a big mistake
To once again return,
To feel the soil under my feet,
For which I had so long yearned.

To climb High Knoll,
Looking out to sea;
Beyond the rugged terrain
lies nothing but sea, sea and more sea.

To climb the peaks,
Through the flax and the ferns;
Everything so green,
Being circled by the terns.

The wild windy bends,
On the road to Blue Hill;
The cloud almost consuming me -
and then everything so still.

The woods of Plantation,
And Rosemary Plain;
The sweet smell of fresh pine
Brings me back again and again.

The narrow streets of Jamestown,
Where cars and people compete;
Can take such a long time to walk,
Talking for hours with everyone you meet.

Swimming in the sea at Rupert's
Became my great escape;
With lovely friends we'd cook and swim
From early until late.

Being churned by the rough South Atlantic
Is like being in a washing machine;
When the huge waves come crashing upon you,
All you can do is hold your breath and hope...its better not to scream!

The water is warm but not gentle,
The swell can sweep you away;
As the waves pound rocks at your body,
You might be tempted to pray.

We swam and ate plo,
We swam and ate cake;
Fish freshly caught
Then from fire and onto plate.

Nana's house has not changed much,
The old geysir still in place;
The bead curtains, the photos,
of just about every single face.

Cockroaches escape hastily,
And the mozzies might come in,
Yet the peace and tranquility of this place
...with its "acoustics" of tin...

For the tin roof has a lot to offer
Especially for a musician;
The flute can be heard from afar,
Penetrating the silence within.

The rain drops make music too,
As they fall upon this roof of tin;
Every other sound may well be drowned out
And the lights sometimes go dim.

But to look from Nana's house,
To the peaks, the Gumwoods, the Fort;
Across to Francis Plain, the School,
And the sea in the distance of course.

Flagstaff sits prominently,
The sun setting on its flanks;
All can be seen from this house,
Built on these precarious banks.

I said goodbye to my nana
I did not know she was going to die;
She was staying in the nursing home,
I visited each time I passed by.

The house then felt more empty,
Even though she had to move out;
Suddenly it became so empty -
Everyone now has moved out.

It was also a place of torture,
And I am not proud at all of my mark;
I left this house with a darkness,
From which it will never depart.

I left the Island with darkness,
As it came time for me to depart;
The people, community shattered,
I still love it with all my heart.

I then felt I could help others,
After learning from those I could confide;
Since my once close knit family
Had pushed me to the side.

We thought we could bring justice,
For many victims of this fate;
But then as we drew so close..
...all of a sudden - it was too late.

Now we are cursed even more,
For our actions have caused such shame;
Yet he was the one who abused us -
He was the one to blame.

So I say goodbye as thats all I can do,
Tears flowing as I write this;
For I know with most certainty...
that I shall never return...and how I miss...

I miss you St Helena,
I tried to help you too;
But as closed minded as you are,
I am just more sad - there is nothing I can do.

Without the support of anyone,
Due to "fear of speaking out",
My own voice falls on deaf ears,
Even when I shout.

Now I must live with this damage,
And shame, and blame, and guilt;
Sometimes I still know not what is true,
Because as women - of course, its "our fault".

You are drifting away St Helena,
Our people - they have but gone;
I miss you, our jewel of the ocean,
Thinking back to the days when I was "still one".

I was still one of you till  last year,
How so much can change in that time;
But now our bond is forever broken,
Its broken...because of this crime.  

....and yes....it was a crime.
A new poem...not really thought out.  Just thoughts that came out (!).
Aug 2018 · 125
I Wish I was a Fridge
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
"I Wish I Was A Fridge"

I trust no one,
But I agree to see you;
You come every six weeks,
To see anything new.

I hardly know you,
I saw you last year;
I've seen others since then,
I know im difficult - thats clear.

But you came back again,
because there's no one else,
I have to trust you again,
When I dont trust myself.

But should I really trust you?
Or are you the same?
I hadnt seen you for so long
..i'd forgotten your name.

You ask me to explain,
And I try my best,
To explain whats in my head,
All the confusion and the rest.

I tell you everything,
With paper and pen;
Absolutely everything,
over and over again.

Then you say you cant help me,
So I feel even worse,
You say you are not a therapist,
I should have remembered that first.

All you care about
is whats in my fridge;
You go into my kitchen,
and check out my fridge.

Well the fridge is fine,
It might not be full,
But it has milk and leftovers,
...I wish it had wine too!!

You come here and visit,
And then I feel worse;
For I trusted you with things,
I should have thought again first.

For you cannot help me,
Why do you come?
My fridge is always quite happy,
My fridge is having great fun.

It has no nervous system,
No brain, no spinal cord;
Its incapable of "feeling"
Or trusting in the Lord.

You come all this way,
To look at my fridge,
You come here from Lamlash,
And check out my fridge.

I am clearly a failure,
As its always the same;
The fridge is just fine,
The pain is in my brain.

I wont see you again
for quite a while;
But I cannot promise
to put on a smile.

But my fridge will be fine,
I can promise you that;
If only I was a fridge...
...does anyone else feel like that?!

I shall get out some pens,
And draw a big smiley face;
Stick it on my fridge,
Just for you and your "fridge case".

I wish I was a fridge too, could put in and take out what I choose;
But im not an inanimate object - im a human being,
And I do often wonder....what got me into this state ...in the beginning.

All the best...with love...from the fridge :/ x
Rambling poetry during moments of frustration....not knowing who to turn to.
Aug 2018 · 242
I have no sympathy...
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
"I Have No Sympathy"

Some of us want to escape,
To escape the constant pain;
Others...they do not...
They escape to avoid the blame.

I have read these things,
For I must know;
But as for having sympathy -
That is well and truly "no".

You did this to escape
The blame and shame you deserved;
You broke your family and us,
For we never got what we deserved.

You knew full well the fate you would meet
and instead of facing us -
You put a rope around your neck
....and jumped off a seat.

Your family deserve sympathy of course,
but you showed zero remorse,
You did this to them,
And you did this to us.

Some will continue to blame us
For your premature death;
But you are the one who took your life -
leaving us not "fixed" but with more strife.

If I am evil then so be it,
I have no sympathy, not even a bit;
So evil we may be seen,
You left us with more ****.

You knew full well
that justice would have been ours;
You knew full well,
that this had gone way too far.

Nobody knows how many you harmed
but with your death you did so much more;
You escaped justice,....
....selfish to the core.

None of us are ******,
yet we deal with ignorance;
A victim blaming culture
with no common sense.

You are dead and gone,
You've no need to worry;
But your victims left behind
- we wont forget in a hurry.

You knew you were guilty,
You know you have no choice;
So you left us to deal with
the mess you had caused.

I have many emotions,
but sympathy for you is not one;
We live with it daily....
....but as for you...you're gone.

"Suicide is not a sign of weakness"
so we hear people say;
Well I and others beg to differ -
you were too weak to let us have our say.

I have no sympathy,
and yes that may make me cruel.
But you hung yourself for a REASON,
And NONE of us ...are fools.
Apologies....this one should come with a Government Health Warning :(
Aug 2018 · 208
Why am I still Here?
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
"Why am I still here? "

Why am I still here,
living in constant fear,
Although its not happened again,
Nothing can ever be the same...

I dont want to live with such pain,
The exhaustion and fear is intense,
I'm in my "safe space" now...
yet today I felt "behind the fence"

I will have to leave soon,
this sanctuary cannot last forever,
I will have to return once again,
Back to the same torture

I know im not ready to leave,
my body has been telling me so,
Until now I have felt so relaxed,
But now, my body says "no"

It has trapped my mind
in a new state of panic
with the fear of leaving
Is this fear and panic

I cannot do anything with ease,
I cannot even walk down the road,
For so long this has been "normal"
Yet now my brain feels "overload"

Overloaded with panic from nowhere,
Just the fear of leaving I guess,
Back to the painful unknown,
Back where my life is a mess....

I still look at my photos
I dont know who I am,
I dont know what happened,
I dont know how I can...

The fear is unexpected,
I feel no longer human,
Only the kids I work with
help me to carry on....

The people here - they think im sick,
because of the "winter sun"
What am I supposed to tell them?
That its my brain - not the sun?

Maybe this is the end of me
the end of fear and pain,
I am not afraid of dying,
It is better than being insane.

My time is coming to an end here,
and my life most likely too;
For all that I have left is here...
Its only here....in Soweto....
Conveying the feelings of terror and fear experienced prior to leaving my "safe haven", and having to return to a world where I feel I do not belong
Aug 2018 · 161
A Poem to my People
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
A poem to my People:

"I love you all dearly,
but I know that you have gone;
I see you all here daily,
but I know that you have gone.

I don’t blame you, I understand you,
And I know that I bring shame;
But I also understand,
that I was not to blame.

I know I won’t be welcome likely
ever there again,
And although you may not believe me
I don’t want to cause you pain.

I hope for your forgiveness,
Although I did no wrong;
I hope someday you'll understand
that I did no wrong.

I have tried to make contact,
but you never spoke again;
And because you are so many,
this causes so much pain.

But I guess that you have gone now,
and forever that may be,
If he only hadn’t hung himself,
you might have believed me.

But now that I know,
that I’m not the only one,
I understand the "dark side"
more than anyone.

I understand the culture,
its different where I live;
And although I hope for change for all,
I as yet can just forgive.

I hold nothing against you,
as I said - I understand;
but I hope that in the future,
heads won’t be buried in the sand.

I rarely write poetry,
but this is all I can do;
as a way to get my thoughts across
to so many of you.

I live here in Scotland,
I don’t need to be ashamed;
here on this "Isle of Arran",
I am never blamed.

I hope that St Helena
one day will see it too;
that "there is no excuse for abuse"
no matter "who is who".

It’s sad to lose the RMS,
the most loyal Saint of all,
but she is serving us still by
opening the island to the World.

Opinions might be questioned,
from cultures far and wide,
but with that I hope you'll see
that I have nothing to hide.

Through my bad experiences
I have gained a lot as well,
I have an understanding of
all the people put through ****.

I know I’m one of many,
I know I’m not alone;
together we share this deep connection
to a place that some call "home".

I hope one day you'll forgive me,
as I forgive you,
for treating me the only way
that you knew.

The RMS is serving us,
by opening up this land;
If she stayed forever-
you might never understand.

She may be just a ship to some,
but to me she’s so much more;
She has a soul, a personality,
she had to leave our shores.

We have a lot in common,
both feeling as if "disposed of";
but I do hope we won’t end up scrapped,
and still receive some love.

I'll love you all forever,
even if I hear nothing again;
and I don’t regret my visit,
even though I "caused you pain"

You may not understand just yet,
but I hope one day you will;
and with more education,
the Island will be better still.

I stand by the others,
as they have done for me;
and I’m forever grateful
to my "extra family".

I wish you well for now,
as I’m tired and can write no more;
and I just hope that one day
Such darkness shall leave these shores.”

Take care,
love **
A desperate plea to "my people" who never spoke again, after I was subjected to assault.  They disappeared from my life completely.
Aug 2018 · 129
He Never Walked Away
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.

— The End —