Poetry Bulawayo

Bound by the curse of Eve I am woman Beautiful, black, sun tanned The one whose skin would not respond to no skin lightening cream Beyond these black spots and patches on my face Is a representation of Africa’s forgotten race My heart beats at an African drum pace As I embrace The earth; the seed of my birth My heart beats with an African bongo rhythm Echoing sounds of ancient mysticism That lies hidden deep within the belly of the garden of Eden My blackness deeply rooted within this soil The very existence of my womanhood The soil upon which Nehanda stood As her sacrificial blood streamed deep into the veins of Earth’s life giving artery Nehanda forever shall stay part of me Hell; I am Nehanda Nyakasikana in disguise Within my blackness and femininity is where my strength lies Black and feminine I am woman Not just a woman, I am Africa; the womb of Eve I am the womb I am Eve Mother of life; mother of all that live Within my womb...

I was there while he breathed heavily on top of me. I saw the cruelty in his eyes when he was on top of me. I struggled under his arms as his mind pushed for one thing. I felt the pain and betrayal as he tore my legs apart, and thrust into me I heard the words he said, which I won’t repeat for the dignity of my writing, and for the dignity of your reading. But I was there and now I am here, hopeless, helpless wondering how to tell my fiancé about this disillusionment of myself and that I was there saw him and felt him.