Re be re swere mollo ka diatla.
Re raloka mantlwane ka meši.
Re taboga molora bjalo ka kgathi.
Re namela mehlare mebele e tuka.
Re le dikgošigadi re nnoši lefaufaung.
Re kitimela kgabo ye e sa yeng felo.
Re be re hlabana ka marumo a go nkga letšatši.
Re le dibini tša mello ya badimo.
Re be re le barongwa ba legodimo.
Re tšola dieta, re rwala ditopo.
Re be re le bana ba letšatši.
Re sa thibe ke selo.
Le dipula tša medupi di šia go re batamela.
Ge re lebelela ka mošola,
re thaba go bona monna apere kgabo ya mollo,
bjalo ka seanamarena.
Re be re raloka re tuka.
Re swere molla ka diatla.
(This poem speaks about how the children inside like playing with fire)
We held a fire with our bare hands.
Played “house house” with the smoke.
Jumped over the ashes like a skipping rope.
Climbed trees while we were set alight.
We were queens in the sky,
running towards a flame that was going nowhere.
We pretended to stab each other with a spear that smelled like the sun.
Danced to the wrath of our ancestors.
We were sent from the sky.
We took off our shoes and put on corpses.
We were the children of the sun.
And nothing could stop us.
Even the floods made way for us.
When we looked on the other side,
we were happy to see a man wearing a flame like a Sotho blanket.
We played as we burnt.
And held a fire with our bare hands.
Wendy is a young black woman learning to write. She’s an old soul who believes she’s lived a past life. She currently works in the Advertising industry and finds it fitting that stories take over her life.