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…
As I sat at my desk, staring at the blank page before me, I felt discouraged. My dreams seemed distant, and I wondered if success was merely a myth for a village black girl like me.
Then, I recalled my mentor’s words from my student days: “Success is not a…
In the light of Christ, my spirit soars,
He is the Truth, the Way, the Life—my core.
In every word, His promise shines,
Validation flows through these heartbeats of mine.
With confidence, I rise and stand,
My voice, a flare, my purpose, a plan.
With will and passion, I forge my path,
In every endeavor, I…
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:
Poverty you are so cruel
Poverty you take away joy
Poverty you control and take over
We fight you, we pray against you
We ask from the almighty to get rid of you,
Yet you poverty you stand still and ensure we feel your presence
I have tried all ways with the pros and cons
But…