I am Woman!

I am Woman!

Just when you think you’ve broken me,

with your cowardly fists,

with your diseased tongue,

I will not cower.

Your fake macho shell does not frighten me,

your violence will not silence me.

I am I,

the mother,

the sister,

the partner,

the woman.

I am woman,

powerful and strong.

I am me.

The very thing you can never be …

Our shared African Rain

Our shared African Rain …

When we kissed, beneath our shared African skies, you doused me in the cauldron of an aching desire, as you lit within me, a scorching, eternal fire.

When our bodies writhed, a dazzling confluence of two souls, you tantalised me with many a whispered ode, keeping me company through my vagabond journeys, on this my eternal abode, the yawning desolation of the lonesome road.

When your heart beat against my chest, our bodies a union of love, I sailed the waves of passionate need, imbibing your essence, my constant companion on infinite alleyways tread, as I hobbled further, never knowing what lay ahead.

We were one on that distant Jo’burg night, merged with the rumbling thunder of the African rains, free with gay abandon, breaking the chains, letting go of all stifling reins.

The beauty of those nights of togetherness may be faded sketches on the carpet of yesteryear, though it has always been you, as it always shall be you, my true love tucked away in my heart, kept close so the memories of you may never depart.

Today I yearn to be swept away by you once again, escaping these meagre scribbles that barely rhyme, these paltry words that too many an emotion confine,

to be one again, our souls pining with one another to entwine, our hearts unshackling the knots of all these years, our cheeks no longer feeling the sting of trickling tears.

I want to taste the yearning on your lips, to be woven again, into the tapestry of our exquisite embrace, to banish the distance between us, this void, this empty space.

I wish to hear our hearts beating to that old, sublime refrain, dispelling at once, the pangs of our hearts’ gnawing pain,

to be once more bathed, in the nectar of our shared African rain.