When the sunset fades, and the stars disappear,
When the darkness deepens, and my heart does fear.
And when the tunnel’s grip seems endless and wide,
My weary body and soul, side by side.
On days when prayers repeat, a desperate cry,
“Why me?” I ask, with tears that won’t dry.
Lord, help me find…
While we still have time, let’s gather around.
Let us share laughter and jokes freely.
Let’s continue to cherish each other’s grace.
Let’s make the most of this precious time.
While we have time, let’s chase our dreams.
We are working towards our goals.
Also taking a breath to ourselves
To reflect and nourish our souls
While…
My name is Prisca, a young, dark African girl. I grew up in the southeastern part of Nigeria, West Africa. This is the story of how I moved from a fearful little girl trying to survive the societal impacts of her community to a confident young lady who is…
In tender years, life’s storms began to rage,
A matriarch’s loss, a heart’s turning page.
Four and a half, with my sister by my side,
Left in aunt’s care, our father went abroad to reside.
South Africa’s call, a new life to unfold,
Education’s promise, young dreams to mold.
But stepmother’s shade cast darkness on…
That night, I sat on my bedroom floor, the remnants of my day scattered around me—unfinished personal projects, unanswered messages, and a growing sense of isolation. The walls felt like they were closing in, a reminder of everything I had neglected. I had allowed doubt and fear to take…
I am the sting in your strong coffee,
I burn habitual liars’ tongues.
They don’t even feel good between the thighs anyway.
This poem is a melody of praise
for men who mend the ruins of childbirth
and storms,
for women who have experienced
the actual ruptures of soul and spirit.
These words are butter for your…
My name is Nokubonga Nomfihlo Mthwakazi, a 30-year-old woman. I was born to Zoleka and Fikile and was raised by my grandmother, Teteyi, who is my maternal grandmother and a descendant of the Mayirheni clan. I grew up in the small town of Ngcobo, in the village of Qebe.
I…
POEM
Beggars looked in my direction,
And I felt like one of them
I looked back and resonated with so much they were going through
I’d seen them
Day in, day out
Sitting, waiting, hoping, begging
All I could do was to wonder, what’s next?
What are they hoping for?
Where is their help coming from?
I’d seen them
Day…