Mega Artists Magazine Issue 8 | Page 7

Child; do not be broken.
Woman; they may have stolen;
The stars in our eyes,
Planted their botched
Manhood in our thighs,
But from this abyss we shall rise,
Coz we...
We are conquerors,
A battalion of worries,
Marching through this inglorious,
Tide of life.
With a stride that strikes
A command of reverie,
For we are the epitome
Of royalty,
Imbedded in the souls of our feet,
We are the distinct
Bread of molten rock,

When the call to bring us back is long
forgotten.
Even when we are whirled
Back into the social fabric
For your gaze to meet the face
Of innocence stolen,
To observe our broken.
But not enough care
For even mere hash tags,
Calling for our healing,
Praying for the mending of our brokeness,
Restoration of strength and will to live,
When our bellies yield babies,
That we not know how to love
Or have a bone to hate,
Or stealth to abort,
But we have fought ,
Many a wars,
From behind bedroom walls,
To cooperate floors,
And we have worn,
The bruises and scars,
As testament of our resilient
Elephant skins.

Volcanic ash spewing fumes out of sockets
That refuse to pocket
The pain or retain,
The memories of rape,
The bruises of abuse,
The stale taste of shame,
The victim tags that replace our names
When we, to the system, remain
Statistical figures,
Rotting in cabinets of closed cases.
We more than just those faceless faces,
That a mere hash tag easily replaces,
When the calls to bring us back go viral.
We are the survival Spirits
That linger and refuse to settle with the dust,
When all the hype has passed,
And all we have is us,

www.megaartists.co.za

So child: do not be broken
Woman: they may have stolen
The stars in our eyes
Planted their botched manhood
between our thighs,
But from this abyss we shall rise
Coz we,
We are conquerors.
© Mercy Dhliwayo 2015

Aug-Sep 2016

Page 6