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the broken wing

Yesterday felt like any other day
With the sun smiling right through my face
The waves of the sea moving high and low
And the wheezing wind moving south to north

The cage was open for me to fly free
But my broken wing wouldn’t allow me
Forbidden freedom was towards me
And accepted wisdom was against me

But today is not yesterday
Today does not feel like any other day
Today I cut loose all obtacles in my way
Yes, I move forward with my broken wing, today

They said that it is impossible to fly with a single wing
I say it is possible, if you believe

Today I am walking against forbidded freedom
Today I am running towards accepted wisdom
Yes, today, I am flying with my broken wing.

Hell on a hill

The air was filled with excitement. It was a long weekend and most people were planning trips to the lake or recreational spots to unwind and have fun. At age 15, I was just so excited about the excitement and my nephews and I were running around sharing in everything from people just passing, carrying large water- melons or some lugging crates of beer and meat for their barbecues. It felt like Christmas, yet it was the first day in May. It was also the last month of Fall or Autumn as we know it. The weather was unusually warm, though windy. The hustle and bustle of the day continued well into the late afternoon and it suddenly died down. Everyone had gone to their respective lake trips or picnic areas and the township was quiet.

My nephews and I went back in the house to play “Karate Kid” moves. The two boys adored me, and they’d hang onto my every word. I loved telling stories. I used to be able to just make up a tale and tell it. They most especially loved the story of “Vera, the ghost lady”. I believed that story since it was an urban legend as I grew up. They were my older sister’s sons. Ronny, the older and Reggy, 6yrs old. He was younger by just a year and a half. Ronny was much closer to me. He’d shadow me in whatever chores I was given and he’d follow me everywhere. The house they lived in was their mother and their stepdad’s. It was an ordinary four-roomed house in a busy township in Soweto. Most people who lived on the same street knew one another. I was relatively new there as I had recently moved in at my sisters house to keep her boys company after school, during the day while my sister and her husband were at work.

On this bright sunny afternoon, my brother in law sent us on a errand. He used the train to work and his monthly train-stub had expired. He gave me the exact amount to go buy him another monthly stub at the train station, about three kilometers away. My nephew Ronny and I were excited because it’d give us the chance to take a nice long walk, watching people’s comings and goings along the way. We made it to the station, and bought the ticket. The long walk back suddenly didn’t seem so nice anymore because we were so tired and thirsty. Most times we had to keep jumping out of the way of a reckless driver or watch some very drunk people swearing their way through the streets of Soweto. I pocketed the stub and we started our trek back home. A few meters away from the station, we were walking on a gravel path in a very rocky part of the area. It had a nice view over the nearby neighborhood and was very quiet. Suddenly I hear my nephew cry out. I thought he might have stepped on something and I ignored him. Then it went eerily quiet and I turned around. A young man, probably in his early twenties was pulling my nephew by his arm and I could see he was hurting him. The guy stood there sneering at me with his bloodshot eyes and two missing front teeth. I asked him what he thought he was doing and demanded that he let go of my nephew. He asked me in the Zulu dialect what I was gonna do for him to let my nephew go. I was so naive for not understanding what he was getting at and I feebly answered that I’d say thank you to him. Someone behind me laughed out loud and there were three of his friends approaching. My nephew started crying and I was suddenly very scared. People were passing by and no one stopped to see what was going on. The guy behind me pushed something into my rib cage and ordered me to start walking. I resisted and begged him to let us go, but he kept laughing, then he whispered something in my ear. He told me his name was Themba and he was the leader of the gang in that area and everyone was scared of them. He showed me a pistol and told me killed many people and was wanted by the police, but even they couldn’t catch him. He then pointed the weapon at my nephew. I started screaming but he hit me so hard on the side of my head, I saw stars. The guy who had my nephew started slapping him around and I screamed at him to leave him alone. I begged them to let him go. He was just a little boy. My captor, Themba, started pushing me against a huge rock and told me to lift my skirt. I started crying even harder, because I was terrified. I’ve heard people talk about what men do to women once they lifted their skirts or take off their clothes and I had sworn that I’d rather die than ever do that. I heard my nephew cry again and this other guy threatened to use a weapon on him if I don’t hurry up. I cried and held on tightly to my skirts. The guy Themba slapped me dizzy and while I put my hands up to my face to ward off more slaps, his filthy, smelly, crusty hands found their way up my skirts and I felt my underwear rip. I started screaming, but he held his smelly hand over my mouth and nose, while with the other hand he unzipped his pants. I couldn’t breath and fought him with my free hands. I felt my neck twist at some stage and I must have lost consciousness. When I resurfaced, the guy who had my nephew captive was on top of me. My hands were held by the other two who had, until then, not said anything. They were laughing and pushing one another to have another “go” at me.

Somewhere during the confusion, I heard a dog bark. I saw a large Alsatian coming from behind the huge rock they’ve been keeping me. It barked viciously at them then a voice from behind the rock came. An older man came leeping from behind the rock and started shouting at them. The guys scattered around and the one who was still on top of me was pulled roughly by his neck. The scuffling brought the dog in a hurry and I could hear screaming. The dog must have sunk its teeth into one of them. The old man came to me and pulled down my skirt and fastened my shirt around me. Suddenly I remembered my nephew. I told the old man I was not alone. I heard whimpering a few steps away and my nephew was lying there, bleeding from his nose. Those thugs had really worked him over. I started crying again and when he saw me, he cried even louder. The old man asked us a lot of questions, but we (my nephew and I) were just too happy to see each other. We grabbed one another and started running. All the way home, I felt so sad. I felt bad for what had happened and my biggest relief was when I found the ticket stub still in my pocket. I wondered what I had done wrong for those men to do that to us. All the time we were running home, we never stopped or spoke to one another or anyone, although we kept looking over our shoulders. Once home, no one was around. My sister and her husband were out and I was even more relieved. I’m not sure how I was going to explain my torn shirt and underwear. I made sure the ticket stub was in a safe place where my brother in law would find it and I ran straight to the back of the house where there was an out-house. I filled a tub with cold water, added washing powder and some bleach and got inside. I sat in there for a long time, washing off the stench of those men. Trying to wash away everything that happened. I scrubbed myself so hard till my skin burned. I never cried while I did that. I took the clothes I was wearing and the underwear and dumped it in the dustbin. Afterwards, I flushed the water down the drain and every single memory of what happened that afternoon.

It all came back to me like a ton of bricks seventeen years later as I was taking a nap. It returned with such an overwhelming rush, I felt I was drowning. At first I thought I was dreaming, then it hit me. I was re-living every moment of that horrible day. For all those years I managed to carry on with my life. I got married, had a child, miscarriages and even managed to fall in love. I went to see a physiatrist who told me that I was able to lock away all the bad experiences at the back of my mind, and it was just waiting to come back out without warning. This experience had a life altering effect on my nephew, because he had to watch. I’m still filled with guilt for his ordeal at the age of seven. He never deserved to see something so cruel. We spoke about it once after it came back to me in a dream. He told me he never forgot and he always wondered how I could just carry on living my life as though nothing happened to me. Today, he is married and has a brilliant son. I pray daily that he is happy. My life changed at a few moments’ notice. Today, houses are built on that hill and the place is called Mountain-side. I can’t help staring at the very spot every time I drive past the place, on my way to visit relatives in Soweto.
Because I dared to dream bout what happened to me on a hill in Soweto on the first day of May, I live with a large wound in the pit of my stomach, and it does not allow me to trust or to love again. I am divorced now, and living with my son in our home.
I dream of finding the best of what this world has to offer me. I know I will find it. I live with hope, but also with the inability to forget.

Irresolute Clay

With potters hands you formed me
Designed me
Made me in your image
Formed me with your grace
With a sculptor’s creativity
You cut away the mess
As if to say
Here is a piece of irresolute clay
An unfinished work of art
Placed in a furnace
To harden and shape
An artist creating
An image of Himself
Loved and precious
Humanity
Millions of pieces of irresolute clay

Irresolute( doubfull, infirm of purpose, vaccilating, unsure of how to act

The Guilt Trip

Spoiling myself, I bought four new incredibly hot outfits. When I saw them, it was love at first sight, so I didn’t bother fitting. I simply pictured myself in them, and that was enough. Now, here is the disappointing part, when I got home, they simply didn’t fit. Even worse, they are my size, the last size in the shop. A sad reality hit me; I had to return all of them. I hate returning merchandise; the tellers have a way of making you feel like you committed the worse crime of the century, an unforgivable sin. There I was, walking stupidly feeling nervous and scared like a kid called into the principal’s office for being mischievous. I told myself that I was going to put up a straight face just to make sure those cashiers don’t make silly comments that will lead to worse guilt than I already felt. I joined the long queue , and endured each passing second and minute with the sound of the ticking clock in my head. By that time, I so strongly wished I were done and on my way to the exit. The queue moved in its slowest pace, and by the grace of higher powers, I reached the cashiers. “Good morning, how can I help you?” The nice lady asked with a sweet smile. “Hi, I would like to return these please.” I told her as I handed over the items. The nice lady’s face changed to a mean lady’s face, reminding me of my grandmother’s face when I accidentally knocked over her Sunday lunch salad. “All of them?” She asked in awe. “Yes, they don’t fit.” I said, half scared and half trying to put on a brave face. “Returns and Exchanges are done upstairs on the second floor.” She said, pointing me to the direction of the escalators. Great, I had to go and join another long que for a good thirty minutes. Just when I was about to go next, some woman and her husband cut in front of me. I was so angry and irritated. The woman noticed, and felt the need to explain, “sorry about this, we were in the queue downstairs and we were told to come here.” Why didn’t I do that? Yes, my guilt wouldn’t allow me. I had to release the tension on my face and look more understanding. I waited patiently for them to finish. I was skeptical of going back to the line thinking it would cause tension with the other customers, so I just stood in the middle of the isle feeling embarrassed. I was trying to divert my attention to something else when I felt the pang in my stomach. Yes, I was hungry. My head began to pound, the bright naked lights in the store made me feel dizzy and sick. I wanted to sit down so badly. I looked at the lady and her husband again, to see how far they were. To my surprise, they were doing the same thing I was about to do. The worst part for them was that their account had reached its limit and they couldn’t take items on credit. They had to return a full basket, imagine, a full basket! I felt a bit sad for them since they also had to return baby food, poor baby. They left the counter empty handed, and I moved closer. The teller slowly got up from her chair and limped around returning some of the items to their respective shelves. “Couldn’t she have done this some other time?” I asked myself in half a whisper completely annoyed. The teller had a bandage on her uncle, hence the limping. I couldn’t understand why she had to be macho and do the task, neither did her fellow colleagues who told her to stop. “Are you exchanging?” she asked as she half dragged her lower body sitting on the high chair behind the counter. “No, returning.” I said, pushing the items to her. “They don’t fit the person I was buying them for.” I explained further just to avoid follow-up questions. I saw her lips shaping into half a pout and I could swear she was about to yawn as she scanned the items one by one. A snail could have done the job much faster than she did, but I wasn’t exactly in the position to complain. I had my fingers crossed and prayed internally for her to finish without complaining or saying there is a problem with the items. She finally finished, and I had my cash in my hand. As I made my way out of the store I had to fight the urge to run, scared that I would be called back and told that there is a problem with the merchandise. If the shopping center didn’t happen to be so packed, I would have shouted “free at last!” on my way out.

Coming out

When the time comes to break loose from the chains that have bound you, controlled you and consumed you, all you’ve ever known will no longer imprison you in the very thoughts that have weighed you down, closed off parts of you that you’ve long forgotten not because you wanted to but you chose to, you may have forgotten the very things that tore apart your innocence however sometimes it’s not about remembering but rather about accepting. the choice you made holds more weight than the event that caused the change. We live by free will and choice, you determine where you end up, not an action of someone else. How do you end up in those chains? Self pity, your actions and thoughts become your values and your destiny and its not in your destiny to live with pity, blame and playing victim. We all victims of “thought”, our thoughts as it sends the signal out to the universe that this is all we are prepared to accept and then complain that we have it bad, that things never go right, what we dont realise is just how powerful thought is, you “think”therefore you “are”.

Mistakes? How can there be such a thing? Truth is its just a softer more acceptable version of saying “bad choice” unless by the forced hand of someone else you were given choice, you chose wrong for your own needs its not a mistake. Its a result of an action a thought and the outcome? the very thing you gave out to the universe is enivetibly what it returned to you, consider it mild cases of karmic reaction. We were built with profound knowledge, we were built as beings of light with a deep sense of love, the kind of love you may never in your lifetime in this reality get to feel, we come here as empty vessels yet become sponges absorbing everything around us, even from the moment within the womb. People blame poor parenting as the starting blocks for the way they grew up, but how can we be so ignorant? The most amazing gift we are all given is free will, you are your own creator of your destiny, not the bad parents who raised you or the difficult situations you endured no bad experience should shape you into anything less than the best version of you,who loves on the deepest level, who believes that one act of kindness a simple smile and soft spoken words is all part of a higher level o f existence. We let the opinions of other or even money and vanity rule our lives yet we fail to see the real beauty, the real purpose of what and who we are, and thats just it, we have forgotten..not the important lessons we let go of but the purpose of our journey

Its not part of our plan to be anything less than at peace with who and what we are, it wasnt part of the plan to learn from past mistakes in order to grow because truth is we have always been grown. Our purpose was to remember our soul purpose, to see our own light and to live out all previous karma given in this lifetime from a previous life to balance out the wrongs done in those past lifetimes. Just like the caterpillar that transforms into beauty of its own which we call “the butterfly”we here to evolve in our real beauty of who we are and once we have learned this, spread our wings and fly off into the very place we long for. Forget about making changes in the world, change starts with you and just like anything contagious this change will spread through all. You come here to save your own soul first, once this task is complete many souls will be saved too. Forget the reflection in the mirror, whether the reflection is that of elegant beauty or perhaps that of flaws its merely just as useful as the clothing you wear, it only becomes what you call your ego.

The next time you lose yourself, look towards the sunset, close your eyes, breath and feel your connection to the very things put there to remind you of all you are, all you want to be and all you meant to be. You are not the name you carry, or the car you drive neither are you the title you hold. You are a beacon of light created with love and driven by free will, and the greatest yet also most difficult thing apart from free will given to us is time. Its the only thing that once lost can never be taken back, you can speak words with regret but take them back but time the most precious yet taken for granted privalege we can never take back. Our hourglass the sands of time once activated cannot be paused, when it expires so do we and its not about what we leave behind in this time of expiration that counts but rather what we take with us. This journey is not about leaving our mark behind its about our need to grow beyond this reality. Its our cycle of metamorphosis and just because you cant see your wings that doesnt mean you can’t soar, falling is part of building up the courage and hope needed to one day step off the edge of that high cliff knowing we will fly, if you step off to soon how can you expect to fly? It’s when you leave your ego behind when stepping off that cliff and not seeing your wings but believing they there that you will find yourself suddenly experiencing the freedom you have been seeking for so long, and when you find it you will finally know it has always been a part of you but you just needed to remember how to fly.

Pain

You made my life a playground
Each time you enter my body i feel out of this world
When i think of you my mind gets dark and
I run out of joy

Why are you so bitter?
You do not tell when you come,
Hope and smile leaves me when you come near to me.
Sometimes i forget that they do exists in life

Your presence in mi body bring rain out of my eyes everyday
You make every question to have answer no
Thoughts have gone black; energy is what i am looking for.
You tormented me

You do not feel pity or shame about my emotions
Sunrise and sunset but you don’t give me relief
Nights pass away with mi eyes open, listening to headache

When i look into the mirror i see rain going through mi face
Looking at the pieces of events, they do not give sense,
Why is a word that dominates my thoughts;
Are you happy to see me in this situation?
What is your aim about me? Why me? Still i get answers no

You direct my mind to the graveyard, where everyone has peace
Where crying and complaining are strange things
What the reason for me to be alive, my everyday question
Happy people around making no sense to me
How do they find hope and happiness in their lifes?

Day’s passes and you still in my body,
Aren’t you getting tired of my complains about you?
Pain i felt you and i respect you,
Relief is what i crave for now, peace is
What i need most, pain go away, go away
You have been mi enemy for too long

Birth Place Of My Soul

Often I feel I’ve done too much this time;

And that there is no way back of which I can find;

My problems surround me like a starless night;

And worry has my spiritual man blind;

 

I feel like I’ve played You for a fool for the last time;

When I asked for forgiveness only to ask You the same thing the very next night;

If I was You I would have given up on me and turned away my face;

Yet it’s as if before I ask You come and offer me mercy and grace;

Things I will never understand about the depth of Your love, too hard to explain;

 

Things I could never live without and need more and more everyday;

Nothing can compare to Your ever lasting grace;

That You without question wash my sins away as if I never sinned in the first place;

Lord what makes You love me this way;

 

I know alot of girls just like me can’t understand why Almighty God would waste His power and time;

On a stubborn fool like me who can’t shake a sin filled life;

But whatever it is that makes You love me so much I am forever thankful and will be until I die;

The hell I went through here will be well worth the moment You and me lock eyes for the very first time;

 

And You say “Well done good and faithful servant” with tears in Your eyes;

While I can’t stand in Your presence and fall to Your feet and cry;

You lift me up and say “I have been waiting for this moment for a long time”;

As You replay all the prayers I sent to heaven at night;

 

Asking to meet You face to face and being disappointed when it felt like You ignored my cries;

When in fact You were right there by my side all the time;

Even before I called Your name while consumed by fear in the darkness of the night;

I just couldn’t see for in my spirit my vision was blind;

 

I can’t wait to feel what a whole heart feels like again;

It’s been so long that I’ve become used to living this way;

I forgot that I was meant to live like a King and not like a slave;

I was of a royal bloodline because of the living sacrifice You made;

 

I can’t wait to relive my childhood days;

That I miss so much now but were snatched away;

A place where I no longer miss my past and feel regret and blame;

For breaking her heart when I had no clue about life or love or the cost of making a mistake;

 

Where I can write You songs and poetry of praise;

And watch You read it with tears streaming down Your face;

Where we will laugh at my earthly days;

Where I acted the fool as if I was the most important person to be alive;

 

A place where there is no fear and a struggle to survive;

A place where real love resides and not the substitute love we’ve come to know in this life;

Where hearts are never broken and where no one can erase your smile;

Where everything is free and everything costs nothing;

 

Where I can come see You face to face without fighting opposing forces just to tell You something;

A place where my name is written in the Book of Life with gold etching;

Where I feel famous and have a mansion of my own to live in;

And no one can judge me or hurt me for their own selfish reasons;

 

Where the grim reaper’s clock is no longer ticking away;

Where I can walk without fear or worry for the rest of my days;

Where I need not fight temptation and loose all the time and not know why I do the same things over and over again;

Where I never have to worry about tomorrow and what it may hold;

 

A place where I don’t hate people but cherish them like gold;

A place where my tears are stored for me to see like the bible always told;

I can’t wait to go back to my first home;

The place I left to fight this war, oh I can’t wait to go back home, the birth place of my soul

 

Evening

Golden sun leaves now
sky darkens slowly over the earth
silver moon is here

I am who I am

I carry my origins in on my face for I am a collection of my ancestor’s choices,
I hope that I have made them proud to name me daughter.

I am the granddaughter of warriors, peacemakers, revolutionaries and poets.

I have forged my character in the depths of despair, in the mist of oppression, in the acceptance and love reflected in a mother’s eyes.
I hope to learn, to grow and be more than yesterday.

I am the hope of my mother, the proof of fertility and the aspiration of a future.
I am sister, cousin, beloved, and friend.

I am the creator of my own experiences and the writer of my story,
I make no apologies and require no praise.

I am a collection of moments and the portrait of complexity.
I am my experiences, worries, fears and prejudices.
I am a warrior.
I am a poet.
I am the past, the now, the potential.
I am as I have always been:
DIMAKATSO.

Twenty years

Its been twenty years
still you’re my fear
tried to forget you
WHAT can i do
wine i have tried
only to make me tired
avoid your name
unfortunately its a common name
your husband has forgotten you
i only pray that mine does too
you’re not in the country
i am still not free of you
its been twenty years
you’re still my biggest fear
so now i am on meds
please thoughts leave my head
perhaps i should cease to exist
thoughts about you wont persist

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