Mfumo and Fumane Ntlhabane are Yamoria; a multi-talented creative duo from the West Rand of Johannesburg. They are both Poets, radio personalities, and co-authors of the groundbreaking poetry-colouring book “Colour me Melanin”. And yes they are twins.
Since their emergence in 2018, Yamoria has managed to capture the imagination of audiences and their poetry practicing peers with both their writing and innovative collaborative performances. The twins have kindly allowed Poetry Potion to share one of their recent videos.
Watch their video performance of the poem “Victim’s Apology” below.
Yamoria- Victim's apology
Victims are sorry too
Shame is swallowing what is left of my tongue,
I am reminded of tombstones in the way reflections respond,
I am drowning in what is left of the air
I am six feet underwater and begin to confuse my breath for seaweed
Where anguish makes a home of your eyeballs and your skin is peeled back for seasoning
Women is synonymous with hearse when your feet abort you
Tomorrow is luxury for women with graveyards for mouths
Victim and apology both bloom from the same poisoned tree
I’m sorry I wear my innocence as an appetizer,
Maybe next week the sky will be more willing to devour his skin from beneath my fingernails
I’m sorry I defaced Saturn’s sheet splitting, virtuous evils with the devil
I’m sorry the wind came bearing no lyrics; I swear we composed melodies of
No or stop or no
I’m sorry I couldn’t dictate the seasons;autumn came to soon smuggling breaking in her pockets
Autumn darling, how do you answer to God when your own skin forsakes you?
Say sorry you flaunt your depression as jewelry, or humor
Little girls with sunburns are not worthy of pearls
I’m sorry todays waves beached in my dignity for questioning
I’m sorry my weeds are unearthing this pavement
Rage never did bloom as a pretty flower
I’m sorry my mouth is not built for housing thunder
I’m sorry the wind came burying no lyrics, little girls with sunburns are not worthy of pearls
No, stop, no
Autumn how do you answer to God when your skin has forsaken you
Autumn how do you answer to God, you flaunt you depression as jewelry
Autumn how do you answer to God, your own skin has forsaken you
I’m sorry I haven’t learnt to breathe in a body bag