[tabs tab1=”Poem” tab2=”Poet Bio”]
[tab id=1] Here we go again, down that rabbit hole.
When the day is quiet and everything is still.
When I could feel a tidbit whole.
When life has not been treating me ill.
Here I present myself to you, naked and bare.
My soul open for you to recite.
My moulded breasts where the beating of my heat lies under is a place for me to care.
My body clean and rid of any garments, at your disposal to excite.
Here is my being, I have held out my hand and said: “This right here is who and what I am”
I have seen myself in the mirror and I am no longer afraid of what resides in me.
I have laid out my heart to be an exhibit for the mess that I am.
I have known pain from the deep craters of my eyes and melancholy that couldn’t let me be.
My 3am thoughts go like this: His eyes, his lips, his laugh, the pain in my heart, the hurt in my mind, her laughter, our happiness, cuts, blades…
I cannot fathom why sadness has personified itself and taken the form of my body and encompassed my mind.
Whereas happiness shies away from me like night sky to the sunrise.
I will not compare myself to beautiful constellations and say my mind is scattered and the thoughts in it are countless.
Nor will I compare myself to astounding sunsets and say my sorrows bruised me with the orange and the pink.
What is hard to accept in people is that pain isn’t beautiful, it crushes your soul and damages self-esteems.
I will not make pain poetic, it’s mundane and bitter.
Those tears weren’t a sign of stalwartness, they were colorless and salty.
Poets refer to every terrifying and bruising issue in life as beautiful.
But the death of a man I knew as my father wasn’t “beautiful”
When I saw the look of defeat and disarray on the face of my cousin when my uncle killed her mother.
That pain wasn’t once “eventful”
It was heart-wrenching and destroying.
She fell down on the floor and didn’t breathe for about a minute
And when she finally did, not one word was said.
She couldn’t say that one word for a month.
She was tongue tied and not in a good way.
I will not compare my pain with hers nor with anybodies.
These were just thoughts I decided to jot down as my 3am thoughts at 9am because my eyes were too tired to see anything and my mind was too dizzy to think.
[tab id=2]Londiwe is book nerd that enjoys the power of the written word.
She lives with her mother and is a shy girl.
She has a beloved best friend she would do anything for.
And her life in 3 words is: Simple, fun and comfortable.[/tab]