He walks free,
His trial date one behind thousands awaiting to be heard.
Two weeks in jail.
Not enough evidence, before he goes missing, presumably gone for good
while I am in prison.
I am the one locked behind closed doors,
burglar bars,
barbed wire
and an electric fence.
Who sleeps with the light on, carries pepper spray and a whistle.
Afraid to be left alone, yet more afraid to be alone with me.
Who changed her hair colour,
the clothes she wears,
got new friends and even a new church.
Who cries at night when everyone is asleep
and prays for the courage to stop living to make the pain stop,
While he walks free.

I try not to let her take over
Try to be different
Try to forget the film that plays in my head,
when my sadness turns into anger.

Every angry slap across my face,
for a dirty room, unmade bed or un-followed rule.
Every time her hands encircled my throat,
and she cursed the day of my birth and the man who left her because of me.
Every angry word, screaming, shouting, beating,
I will not do that to them.
To them I am a saint,
Who grounds them and never gets angry.
Who loves them and never blames them.
But anger has to go somewhere,
And when the lights go off and their soundly asleep,
I take out the blades and cut my arms,
My anger released and no hurt to them.

My mother’s anger will never hurt them.

13 Days

She walked through the wide open double doors,
With her problem of 13 days
The problem she would now finally leave here for good.
13 days ago her shamed had been exposed,
In the back room of her Nkgono’s house,
With her mother as the midwife and lots of warm water and towels.
For 5 months she’d managed to walk without anyone knowing,
But the last four months it all became evident.
She’d laboured for 2 days unable to cry aloud.
13 days ago she’d first seen the little white, bald, Boer baby girl,
Whose skin hid Sesotho blood.
Who weighed 3.5kg and only had her brown eyes as proof,
Who gave one loud scream before gently suckling her brown breast.
Now she walked slowly to the reception desk,
Her problem wrapped in a thick pink baby blanket, wearing a blue Crawler
Her birth certificate, dummy and socks in a Shoprite Checkers packet,
Her little problem now fast asleep in a Moses basket.
She wasn’t supposed to love her because she didn’t at first
She wanted to keep her,
But white babies don’t belong with black unmarried maids,
She hung her head, ignoring the call of nurse,
Walking fast as her tears dropped and her heart broke,
13 days of love and her name was all she would be left with now.

She holds the basket steadily on her head,
Her moon face completely covered,
with only her eyes lighting her way,
Her long beautiful black locks,
Her straight Cleopatra nose and delicate elongated neck and prominent cheekbones,
Hidden behind a veil
meant to keep her safe, pure and sacred.
The veil that prevents her from learning anything besides the holy book,
The veil that says she cannot finish school and dream like her brothers,
The veil that forces her to get married to someone she doesn’t love and
Have children her body can no longer carry,
The veil that makes her wish she wasn’t a girl,
didn’t have breast and had the right to say no,
This veil that covers her beautiful moon face daily and can only be seen at midnight,
When she daringly takes it off and dreams

The bells that sing,

She stamps her feet to the tabla player’s drum
The bells on her feet singing with him the sad love song devoted to lord Krishna
Na dhin dhin dha
Dha dhin dhin na

They twirl around her legs all 100 of them
Weighing down heavily onto her slim ankles and tiny feet
Cutting into her delicate skin
But leaving no pain

They are all she has in her scary world of brothels and dirty men,
Of Madamji who gave her a home when her own mother died of sickness
But gave it with a price tag, using her beauty and skill against her.
She loves her bells because they are the only thing holy she has.
Blessed by Pandit Swarmi,
With them she can release all her tears, tell all her fears
And just for a little while,
Become the desired and wanted One

Written by
Jacqueline GF Friedman