Old friend
I am sorry I could not take the bullet for you
I felt it as it pierced right through you
Leaving bits and pieces of you
Sprawled across the halls of time
Like adlibs to a bad chorus
Your chords sound scattered
The eerie pound of a shattered heart
I am but a tattered remnant of your former beauty
Worn out to shreds
Old Friend
You have been a stranger lately
Lost to memory
Now the emancipated version of yourself is soul emaciated
Your delicate voice hardened
Stripped of its eloquence
By this gravel temperament that pays no mind to elegance
The walls you have built up, immaculate
They vaguely offer you the Safety you yearn for
Old Friend
I have missed your warmth in my bones
I have breathed out
Hoping to breathe you in, in all your might
In the shadows of the night
You feel just right
Away from prying eyes
No height, breadth no weight can replace your power in my being
You are like beach sand between my toes
Like water in my dry throat
Like a dream turned reality
This is my plea
Return to self
Gorata hails from Ratholo, Botswana. As a young woman, Christian and attorney her experiences have allowed her to better understand the depths of diversity and adversity, justice, and injustice, in her corner of the world and the world at large. Whether in court, in the streets, in the workplace, in the media, she sees the plight of the poor, the marginalized ethnic groups, children, the unemployed youth, and the struggle of women in our struggle for gender equality from which she draws inspiration for her work.
She was a regular on Yarona FM’s spoken word session and has shared the stage with some of Botswana’s prominent poets such as Moroka Moreri.