I Am an African

Today I came to the shocking reality, that I am an African. Not a politician, an economist or even a poet. Today I am an African. I feel the blood pulsing through my veins and I am terrified by the implication. Every child that has lost their life to every war, they are my brother and my sister. Each famine, each war, each political game at the expense of my people, was against me personally. I am an African. The voices that echo from the other side of the grave, they are there to remind me of what I am, I am an African. The pursuit of financial gain, of passing pleasures, they have been designed to convince me that there's more to life than the pursuit and plight for Africa's restoration. What I am, what I am did not begin on the day I was born, it was born the day those molecules joined and the universe was born. I am an African. I am the truth that will not be silenced, I am the voice that will echo in your ear long after I have become dust and my bones have been swallowed by the earth. I am an African. Allow my truth to penetrate your preoccupied mind, allow my relevance to distract your money and power hungry ambition. I am an African. I am rich in all the best that this earth has to offer, I am gentle, humble, have been blamed of being naive and barbaric at times, but after all is said and done, I am what I am. I am an African.

She Was A Lady...

I wrote this piece many, many years ago. Came across it as I was working on my latest book. Thought I'd share...

From the tip of her beautiful hair to the sole of her stylish shoe,
She was a Lady.
From the elegance of her walk, to the sincerity of her smile,
She was a Lady.

She had a quiet, understated strength about her,

She never needed to ask for respect or admiration, it was
hers for the taking.
Never wore a short skirt or bright make up to be seen,
Never raised her voice to be heard,
Never compromised her integrity to get ahead.
Some would call her a wholesome woman,
To me, she was a Lady.

She carried herself with pride, but never arrogance,
She was highly ambitious, but never ruthless,
She stood her ground assertively, but never forcefully.

She appreciated quality, but was never flashy.
She had a light-hearted side, but was never childish.
She enjoyed her life, but always with sophistication.

With each step she took, she seemed to be saying:
‘I will do what I do & I will do it well, but
if I am to do it the best I can, I need to do it my way:
Like A lady.’

Her devotion to God, to herself, made her the ultimate woman.

Yes, as I look at her, I must admit,

From the tip of her beautiful hair to the sole of her stylish shoe,
She was a Lady...

Dedicated to my beautiful mother...

Body Series - Touch

What were you thinking?

2011 - The Year to Elevate

What does it mean to elevate? I like the idea of going deeper and further and higher than I've ever been before. But with that comes the responsibility of working harder, being more disciplined and expecting more from myself. For me 2011 is the year of hard work. 2010 has come and gone and all it's achievements and failures are now in the past. We now look into the future, roll up our sleeves and get ready to give it our All once again. You can't elevate sitting on your back waiting for things to happen. One of my most recent resolutions is to do things I'm afraid of doing or that I find boring/depressing. If I'm to go further and deeper and higher... I need to overcome my own limitations. By so doing, I'll leave room for success.



There's an episode of Greys Anatomy where Mc Dreamy is faced with a difficult tumor on a patient which everyone thinks can't be operated on. He said something very profound that I've never been able to forget. "When everyone else is running scared, that's when I get inspired." Finding inspiration in the face of adversity is the key to elevation, I believe.



My wish for those I love (and myself) in 2011 is that we do not stand in our own way or become our own worst enemies. Stubborness, laziness, procrastination and excuses are very easy to adopt (as I often do. unfortunately). But just as we decide to entertain these habits, we are free to decide to let them go. I pray blessing, wisdom and perseverance on all my loved ones in the coming year.



But whatever we do, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to be gentle on ourselves. Each day find time to appreciate what is great about you, what you admire, what you're proud of and what you're satisfied with in your own life.



Ozithobayo,
Mbali Jama

The Desire to Connect

In my life I’ve had the privilege of being counted amongst artists. Those who create and reflect the world to itself. Beautifully packaged and renamed: Art.

I fear the label as it implies that I took what was not and made it into what is. In my lifetime I have never been able to do that. I only connect what I am to what I am.

I see a world of contrasts, of black versus white, of good versus bad. I am both and I have but a duty to connect both to each other.



I have never known how to be anything but what and who I am. A hybrid creature who is truly and essentially what she is.

I dare to take a picture, connect it to a word, reveal a truth and inspire those who are disillusioned to say: I get it!

I have been fighting the contrasts between myself and have found comfort in the truth that is this: I am both.

Celebrate with me the dance of life, devour the diversity of all that you are and forgive yourself for all that you are not.



My greatest desire is to bring harmony to those who seek it.

Spiritually, artistically and physically. To be able to connect seemingly unrelated truths is an art in itself, but a truth nonetheless.

Ozithobayo:
Mbali Jama

The meaning of life...

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget." - Arundhati Roy

The Dance - Oriah

I have sent you my invitation, the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living. Don't jump up and shout, "Yes, this is what I want! Let's do it!" Just stand up quietly and dance with me.



Show me how you follow your deepest desires, spiralling down into the ache within the ache. And I will show you how I reach inward and open outward to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, everyday.



Don't tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart. Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.



Tell me a story of who you are, And see who I am in the stories I am living. And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.



Don't tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day. Show me you can risk being completely at peace, truly OK with the way things are right now in this moment and again in the next and the next and the next. . .



I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring. Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall, the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will. What carries you to the other side of that wall, to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?



And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud.



Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance, the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart. And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.



Show me how you take care of business without letting business determine who you are. When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout that soul's desires have too high a price, let us remind each other that it is never about the money.



Show me how you offer to your people and the world the stories and the songs you want our children's children to remember, and I will show you how I struggle not to change the world, but to love it.



Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude, knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging. Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words, holding neither against me at the end of the day.



And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest intentions has died away on the wind, dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale of the breath that is breathing us all into being, not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.



Don't say, "Yes!" Just take my hand and dance with me.

Dear Mr Too-Damn-Good

Sthandwa seyami inhliziyo,
Ngizwa ngishaywa uvalo
Uma ngibheka konke oyikho

Kungabe iqiniso ngempela ukuthi ungowami?

Bathi abanye bephilela ubumnandi,
Wena wakhetha ukuzithanda.
Bathi abanye bephilela imanje,
Wena wakhetha ukusebenzela ikusasa lethu.

Ingabe uyazazi nje kodwa ukuthi uthandiwe kangakanani,
Indlela ohlonipha ngayo, yenza uhlonipheke.
Indlela ozithobile ngayo, yenza kube lula ukukuthobela.

Uyindoda emadodeni, qhawe lami,
Unyinsizwa yoqobo sthandwa sami.

Akekho owake wangithokozisa futhi wangenelisa njengawe,
Ngokwo moya, ngokwo mphefumulo, ndlela zonke

Inhliziyo yami igcwele ukunethezeka,
Uyimpendulo yayo yonke imikhuleko yami.
Futhi injabulo onginika yona angikaze ngiyazi.

Ngibonga iNkosi yami, idlozi lami, ngawe
Mngani wami, Sthandwa sami, Myeni Wami.

(Dedicated to my 'sausage with onions' man)

When it's real...

 

My Happiness (Dedicated to Mr Too Damn Good)

My happiness is your hand on my back
As we walk,

My happiness is hearing the words 'Sthandwa Sami'
When you answer the phone

My happiness is even the fight we had about me needing
To be more careful not just for myself but for those who love me.

My happiness is the warm embrace your family
Gave me when we met & how I feel each time we're together

My happiness is the way you drove for 50km
with one hand, just coz I like it when u play with my hair

My happiness is you, me and Mya Angelou
Reciting 'I have loved you in & out of time'

My happiness is us standing on the balcony,
Discussing why the plot next door is empty,

My happiness is you holding me tightly & saying
'I wish you could see my heart right now'

My happiness is us holding hands as we pray,

My ultimate happiness is bringing you to the part of my heart
Where only you, me and God Reside...

Let me tell you something... (By Q)

This I will write standing angeke ngihlale phansi

This one I don’t need a paper and pen, leyo angisayi phathi.

This one is been in my mind and it’s just itching to come out.

This one I will write standing I need no comfort

Let me tell you something about my girlfriend

My girlfriend is a heroin in the making.

My girl friend is a“black-woman” this has its own meaning.

My girlfriend forever shines.

My girlfriend is strong yet fragile at times.

My girlfriend she is “iMbali”,

She is an all season rose,

She is content,

My girlfriend is humble.

She is inspired,

She is her Mother.

She is open minded,

She is a thinker,

She is blessed.

She is transparent,

I can read her thoughts.

Sometimes I’m ashamed to say I agree,

We share the same view.

She very opinionated,

She is deep.

My girlfriend is a lover.

Uyisingqazu se Ntombi,

Uyathandeka.

She is dark,

She is beautiful,

Uyindoniyamanzi.

She is a woman.

Through her big beautiful eyes

I see the world of beauty.

She is passionate.

My girlfriend is aspirant.

My girlfriend is expressive.

My girlfriend is a writer.

She is much, much more and she knows it...

If God allows,

My girlfriend is my Future Wife.

Black Man I love you... and I hate you

Black man,
For just being you, I love you
You are my better & stronger half.

Black man,
I love you for never complaining or crying,
But I hate you for seeing my own femininity as weakness

Black man,
I love you for how hard you work & sweat to provide,
But I hate you for forgetting that it’s you that I love, not your money

Black man,
I love you for your strength, for being the head of our home,
But I hate how you’ve forgotten to be a bit gentle sometimes

Black man,
I love you coz you don’t believe in hitting women,
But I hate you for the scars that your words leave behind

Black man,
I love you for the beautiful love and intimacy we share
But I hate you for sharing what’s mine with all those other women

Black man,
I love you for expecting nothing but the best from me,
But I hate you for expecting me to live with less from you

Black man,
I love you for seeing that I am beautiful,
But I hate you for not seeing me as anything more.

Black man,
I love you, for your humble heart,
But I hate you for not seeing just how amazing to me you are.

Black man,
I love you for trying so hard to be everything I need,
But I hate you for not realising it’s not necessary, coz all I need you already are

Black man,
I love you for loving me,
But I hate you for not letting your guard down, and letting me love you in return...

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.


In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.


Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.


It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

21 Wise Ways to Live

ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
TWO ... Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
THREE ... Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

FOUR ... When you say, 'I love you ,' mean it.
FIVE ... When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
SIX ... Be engaged at least six months before you get married.

SEVEN ... Have at least one friend who challenges you often.
EIGHT ... Never laugh at anyone's dream. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
NINE ... Travel to a new place every year, it broadens your perspective.

TEN ... In disagreements, fight fairly. Never be harsh, rude or cruel.
ELEVEN ... Don't judge people by their relatives.
TWELVE ... Find your own answer to the question: ‘What makes me happy?’

THIRTEEN ... When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'
FOURTEEN ... Pray often... When you pray, remember to say ‘Thank You’.
FIFTEEN... Say 'Bless You' when you hear someone sneeze.

SIXTEEN ... When you lose, don't lose your dignity. Always keep your head up !
SEV ENTEEN ... Learn to forgive your parents, they’re only human.
EIGHTEEN ... Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship..

NINETEEN ... When you realize you've made a mistake, take responsibility and correct it.
TWENTY ... Smile when picking up the phone... The caller will hear it in your voice.
TWENTY-ONE ... Spend some time alone.

I Rise...

On Christmas day,

I stared inside a coffin,

My own.

Loved ones surrounded me,

Tears in their eyes,

Grieving.

Watching them lower the coffin,

It was a bitter-sweet moment,

Actually.

Seeing myself, outside myself.

Seeing every dream, every ideal,

Every memory.

Being lowered into a 6-foot grave.

It was over, all over.

The beautiful memories,

Of that beautiful girl,

That beautiful young woman.

They were buried on Christmas day.

As the first pile of sand was

Thrown into the grave,

I started to panic,

I felt myself suffocate.

Is it really over, it can’t just be over.

Somebody rescue me, I’m not over!

I screamed at the top of my lungs,

Begged for them to please Stop!

But I was already covered with sand,

Too deep for them to hear me.

Their cries drowned mine out,

As I screamed, and screamed & screamed.

In that frantic state, I caught a glimpse

Of a beautiful black eagle approaching

In the distance.

It flew in from the blue skies

And landed beside me.

‘Come fly with me’ it said,

‘Let’s explore the heavens together.’

An overwhelming feeling of peace

Washed over me.

I felt myself leave the grave,

Spread my wings and

Feel the wind on my back.

As we flew further into the sunset,

I looked back and in the distance saw

My loved ones,

Still crying, still grieving.

I wanted to tell them,

Don’t cry for that body laying

In that coffin,

Her time has passed,

She’s gone.

But even as she died,

I continue to live.

My pain, my suffering is

What we’re burying today.

But my spirit lives on,

and As I soar towards a new day…

New horizons, new memories await.

I will never again be as I was,

I will never again be who I was.

But as you turn your back

On this fresh grave and

The beautiful flowers on it.

Let go of the painful memory of

What brought me here.

And hold on to the beautiful spirit

Of the woman I was

When we were together.

Because although the killer

Thought it was a life that he was taking,

A life that he was ruining,

Only God gives life &

Only God can take life.

I’ve been given a second chance at life,

And like this black eagle on my back

I will rise.

I have always risen,

And will continue to rise.

Lion's Den

I walked into the lion’s den,
Hoping maybe he wasn’t hungry.
He licked his lips as I entered,
& slowly came towards me.

I’m neither naïve nor ignorant
So I already knew what's coming,
I saw his sharp yellow eyes glisten,
As he fixed his gaze towards me.

He circled me a couple of times,
Relishing the moment.
His sharp gaze burnt into my skin,
He couldn’t believe his luck.

The rest of it seemed to happen in slow motion,

As I recall, as he lunged on me,
he first went for my eyes.
Blinding me from the nightmare
That was surely about to come.

In my semi-blind state,
I felt more than I saw,
& with each bite that he took,
I knew I’d known it would end this way…

In the distance I could hear a friend shout;
‘Mbali! What are you doing?
Get the hell out of there!
He’s going to kill you!’

But what she didn’t realize,
Is that I’d made the choice to come here,
And I was going to let him have his way.
I was in the lion’s den after all,
So of course this had to happen.

He pinned my hair down with his paws,
& surprisingly I didn’t fight him.
I felt his nails slicing through my skull,
But I didn’t utter a word.

Then I felt him pause for a second,
‘What’s wrong with you’? He asked,
‘Shout, cry, scream. This is meant to hurt.’

It took all of my power to be still,
And let him have his way.

He saved my heart for last,
Hoping to devour it
As it lay bleeding & beating in his paw.


As his sharp teeth lunged
at my beating heart,
I heard a great big Howl,
And then a sharp tooth crack.

It was only then he realized,
My heart was made of stone.

I’d known that when I came here,
So I knew that I’d be fine.
He limped away into a corner,
Grabbing his bleeding jaw as he went.

I strolled out of that lion’s den,
Knowing I’d won the fight.

Like Vodka, Like Fresh Water

be it psychological, financial, substance or emotional,

i often compare abuse to heavy alcohol consumption

once you've consumed too much of it,

it's hard to tell the difference

between fresh water and vodka

if you were given fresh water,

you'd probably think its a less potent vodka

his behaviour is a typical example

of "he's too good to be true"

when all have mistreated you,

why is he being different?

if he's different and shows a sign of respect,

does that mean he's too good to be true?

it could be that, like a real scout, he can can see true potential

it could be that he thinks you deserve better,

it could be that he's "God-sent"

to make your life a bit smoother,

or he just believes in treating people fairer,

it could be that he's a "God-send"

to make you realise life is not a ferry

but just like heavy alcohol consumer, he's fresh water

she seems to think he's a less potent vodka

why is he willing to sail rough seas just to be with you?

why is he walking into a lion's den to rescue you,

when he could walk-on-by and live his life he did?

why is he treating you special, if only "okay" can do?

why is he walking into rebel's territory just to free your soul?

but again just like heavy alcohol consumer, he's fresh water

she seems to think he's less potent vodka

Those Hands

In the spring of my 21st year,
I met a boy, or rather, a man.
As beautiful as he was arrogant,
As addictive as he was charming.

Those eyes, that smile, those hands.
I must admit that I fell in love with those hands.

With his hands he held me,
As we watched the beautiful sunrise,
After the long nightmare

With his hands he held me,
Through long walks by the sea,
As we played, laughed and

washed the past away

On endless nights of loving,
& love making, he held me.
Caressing my body,
Celebrating my being.
Always holding me.

I’d been held before,
& I’ve been held since.

But when he held me,
He held my body,
Held my heart.

He held the most intimate
Parts of me,
Gently caressed away my pain,
Calmed my fears.
He reminded me
Of what I’d long forgotten.

That I am something special.

Yes, I’d been held before,
And I’ve been held since,

But when He held me...

The Perfect Man...

I met the perfect man once,
I didn’t recognise his face,
But for as long as I shall live,
His memory I can never erase.

I spoke to a perfect man once,
He didn’t blow me away,
But the perfect love he gave,
I still reminisce about today.

I loved the perfect man once,
I had gold yet I didn’t know,
And I took it all for granted,
That I was all he’d ever want & more,

I left a perfect man once,
Chasing dreams & the superficial,
But I cannot still deny that,
His love was something special.

My Hearts Longing...

To live content with small means.
To seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion.

To be worthy, not respectable,
and wealthy, not rich.

To study hard, think quietly,
talk gently, act frankly.
To listen to stars and birds,
to babes and sages, with open heart.

To bear all cheerfully,
do all bravely, await occasions,

hurry never,

fear never, lie never

In a word, to let the spiritual,
unbidden and unconscious,

grow up through the common within me,

This is to be my symphony.

~William Henry Channing~

A conversation with an ex...

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I never ever write about s*x, it's just not my thing. But this just had to be said...



When I asked you the one question,
That’s possessed my mind since we ended,
‘What broke us?’

I was nestled in a cloud of passion,
Drained yet content, from hours together.
‘Promiscuity’, you said.

Until those words left your lips, I lay
Curled up in your arms, exhausted, blissful.
‘Promiscuity?!’

Our bodies still entwined together,
My head nestled comfortably on your chest.
I listened to your heartbeat.

‘Promiscuity, you say.’
I breathed in your delightful scent,
Light-headed from your delicious perfume.

‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ you said,
Then proceeded to kiss my neck,
Running your fingers down my back,
And marvelling at how much that excites me.

‘Um, actually. I wanna talk about it’
I murmured, trying to resist the heat
As your lips ignited a fire deep within me.

‘Please don’t start. We’ve had a perfect night.’
You said, circling my breast with your hands,
Your fingers tickling my belly, as they headed south.

I could feel tears threaten to betray me,
As I replayed the word in my head.
‘Promiscuity?’

The thought was drowned by your lips,
Pressing hard on mine, willing me to forget.
‘Guess what I’d like to do to you?’

I felt my brain separate from my body,
As I watched like a spectator, my body betraying me.
Passionately devouring you, burning with excitement.

Had I been a stronger individual, I would have
Shoved you off me, slapped you and kicked you out.
Promiscuity? Promi-bloody-scuity?

How dare you reduce what you did to me to that?
How dare you forget the way you hurt me?
How dare you?

I could faintly hear my brain condemning me,
‘How dare he? How dare You?’

I continued watching the scene, still a spectator.
When it comes to you, I’ve often felt like an addict,
Your body, my favourite drug.

Watching you climb onto me, breathing heavily
I welcomed you as I always have, delighted.
Feasting on my favourite drug.

‘I’ve really missed you’ you said,
Nibbling on my ear, delighted by my screams.
‘I’ve missed you too...’ I whispered.

We continued this magical dance,
You on top, then me, then you again.
‘I can never get enough of you’

Oh, how I loved to hear you say that,
Loved being the centre of your happiness.
As you explored the centre of mine.

Later, as you lay resting beside me,
I sat staring into the darkness.
Silently revisiting our earlier conversation.

‘What’s on your mind’ you asked.
‘Oh, nothing much. I just realised
That the word ‘promiscuity’
Rhymes perfectly with ‘stupidity’

What do you want?

This poem was written by one of my favourite young poets, Richard 'Quaz' Roodt. Speaks to my heart...

I want to be with you.
I want to forgive you.
I want to forget the dark times,
Those lies you told.

I want to be with you.

I want us to restack the cards.
I want us to build sand castles
I want us to run through the rain
Bare foot and happy.

I want to be with you.

I want you, to want to be with me.
I want you to kiss me first.
I want you to tell me of the different
Shades of your love for me.

I want you to think of me,
I want you to want me to think of you
I want you to know that I do think of you often.
I want to be with you

But most of all,
I want you to apologise first.

A lil girl (By Mashilo Masemola)

once upon a time,

there was a lil girl called uhm,

well let's just call her a lil girl

lil girl was a sweet girl when she went to sleep

lil girl used to have sweet dreams

one night she went to sleep,

and didn't have sweet deams like she always did

this time it was a sweeet dream,

that turned to be a real nightmare,

a nightmare turned to be a "daymare" after a nightmare

from sweet dreams to nightmares,

it all changed when she met an evil soul in her sleep,

and she felt for the evil soul

an evil soul that will eventually corrupt her lil sweet soul

the evil soul corrupts so much,

she can't see antonym between fowl,

guinea fowl and an owl

she carries the nightmare everywhere she goes,

she's in a nightmare night in,

day out and her soul is bare

a bare soul, drowning in it's sweat and nothing is sweet

for years & years she's drowning and chocking

the green line is about to go flat, bleep, bleeeeeeep, bleeeeeep, bleep

could it be she'll never wake up from a deep sleep?

nuh!! because one day she woke up from the nightmare,

next to a a guy with good spirit,

and he whispers "sshhhh, it was just a nightmare, i'm here for you babe"

The Other Woman...

Once upon a time,
I was the other woman.
I thought that I was his,
& he was really mine.

He would look into my eyes,‘
I can’t imagine life without you’.
And in that moment I believed it,

He would hold me in his arms,
‘You complete me,
I never wanna lose you’.
And I knew I felt it too.

I lived a lie,
Thinking I was living the dream.
He was mine for random moments,
Whilst I was his completely.

Waking up from that dream,
I felt used, cheated & betrayed.
I couldn’t believe that ‘I’
Had been the other woman.

Every kiss we’d shared had been a lie,
Every ‘I love you’ he said, had been a lie.
Our every single memory,
had only been a lie.

Once upon a time,
I was the other woman.

But as I often say:
The world has two types of people.
The judgers and the judged.

I no longer sit with the judgers,
Coz now I am the judged.

They say the road to hell,
Is paved with good intentions.
It’s not okay to have meant well,
When lives were torn apart,

It’s not pity that I’m looking for,
Or even some absolution,
This is just a little reminder,
There’s two sides to every story,

And in this case, my begins with…

Once upon a time,
I was the other woman.

My Voice...

When the others left,

They took my silence,

They cleared the air.

When they left,

They let me be,

Let me see me.

See beyond their,

Words, dreams & fears.

They let me see me

I found my voice,

When I silenced theirs.

Their ending gave birth,

To my beginning.

Let it have it's say,

Let it have it's way

Alone is a place,

I had never known

But my voice lay there

In the land of alone.

Waiting for their silence,

So it could have it's say.

Waiting for the day,

It could have it's way.

When I say I'm a Christian... (Carol Wimmer)

When I say..."I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'.
"I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven.

"When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!

I dream about the day...

I dream about the day,
When I’ll no longer be.
I dream about the day,
When you’ll wake up to see.

See I was all you’d ever wanted,
The best you’d ever have.
See how showering all my love on you,
Meant I had none left for myself.

I dream of myself dying,
You hearing the terrible news.
I dream about you asking yourself,
Who’s left for me to use?

I see you walking aimlessly,
Wondering what a fool you’d been.
I see you crying for my return,
Praying to wipe the slate clean.

As I dream about that day,
When I’ll lay cold, six feet under,
I dream that for your sake & mine,
You’ll find another woman.

I dream about the day,
When your ego won’t dictate,
How you act, what you do.
But by then, it will be too late.

But then, I dream about you waking up,
And me being gone was just a dream.
When you wake I’ll be beside you,
And you’ll resist the urge to scream.

Scream with joy, with relief,
Knowing you’ve a second chance,
A second chance to love me right,
A second chance for a brand new start.

I dream of you making a vow that day,
To love and cherish me,
To never forget the special gift,
That is me and only me.

But this is just a dream for now,
For I know you all too well,
And although I hope and pray for it,
Honestly, only time will tell...

But for your sake and mine my love,
Don’t think I’m here to stay,
Because although I love you now...
Tomorrow is another day.

Dedicated to Mbali (by the Late Tshepo Gule)

There's something special...


There's something special
About the way you smile,
That lingers in my mind,
So that,
Whenever we're apart,
I always look forward,
To being with you again...

There's something special,
About the way you care for me,
And makes me feel strong enough,
To handle almost any day.

There's something special,
About the way you love me
That makes every day I'm with you,
One more reason,
To want to be with you forever...

How Aids Has Affected Me...

I can't believe I found this, after 7 years! This is an essay that I wrote for a Natal Witness essay competition in 2001. I won the competition and got it published in the paper...




"It was bright and sunny that day, the perfect day for a wedding. She was the first one of us to get married. We were proud. My brothers scraped every last cent from their wallets. My father wanted everything to be perfect. We were all together for the first time in years, we were a real family, united and happy. She radiated beauty and womanliness; my beloved sister had found true happiness.
I liked my brother-in-law, he looked like a good man and he treated her well. We all thought they would live happily ever after. After all, every cloud has a silver lining, right? My sisters life has had it's fair share of dark clouds, from the time when she was born and my father denied she was his, to when her mother had died in the floods of '95. She was a strong woman though, a real survivor. I loved her and I wanted this day to be extra special. It was. She rode out of the church with her new husband on her arm. We cheered, clapped and ululated. It was a happy ending, so we thought.
Two months later, on a cool windy Thursday, my mother received a call. My sister's husband was in hospital. Nothing major, just a recurring headache. I had no reason to worry I was reassured. But it was at that moment that I knew something was wrong. My family is always trying to protect me from things. They think just because I am the youngest I won't understand.
To a certain extent I don't understand, I don't want to understand. I should not have to understand. The worst thing was finding out. Like everyone who's never been faced with this situation, I made fun of it. I was just commenting on how everywhere you turn, there is a warning about HIV/AIDS. I might have said something like, "who cares how many people die of Aids everyday, they should know better." I cringe when I think of how insensitive and just blatantly cruel I was being. My mother asked me this: Would I still feel the same way if someone I was close to got infected? I said I would. Then she said "your sister's got it".
I was stunned. I thought about it, tried to make sense of her words, but I couldn't let myself believe it. I felt the ground beneath my feet crumble. I wanted, I needed to cry, but I couldn't. Instead I got angry. At her for letting this happen, at myself for loving her too much and even at God for taking my sister too soon. She would miss out on so much, and why, for what? For love? I didn't believe in love anymore. Everyone seems to believe that love is the answer - love conquers all. Well, let's see it conquer this. Nothing has managed to conquer Aids, not love, not medicine, not anything. It is love's fault that I'm losing my sister. She means the world to me. I love her so much it hurts. I wish I could take her place. She has so much more to live for; her presence is much more valued.
This is how I felt for a long time. But then one day, it hit me; she's not gone yet. I realized I would have to let God's will be done if I were to keep my sanity. I had to be there for my sister, after all she was suffering more than me. I had to stand by her to the bitter end.
Looking back on my sister's wedding day I can understand why she was glowing and radiant. Somehow she must have known that those smiles, cheers and ululation meant she was loved. A true uncircumstantial love that would give her the strength and reason to fight, even when things looked and seemed dark and hopeless. I realize that my sister's being infected with the HI virus has taught me. It has taught me to love, in word and in deed.
Me and my sister's relationship has survived the greatest test and I am proud to say that even in death, God is with us."