The sun reaches through clouds scattered across the vast Southern African sky, as though announcing the arrival of angels, nourishing my starving, sleeping soul. strands of white heat touch cold orange sand and a lizard pauses to absorb the dying day. The Continue reading “Home”
He does not talk to me, but relies on the news,
He sees men murder man and wants me to lose
all my rights, my beliefs, my faith, my blood,
He names me a disgrace, he calls my religion mud.
She does not engage me in long-held conversation,
about my views of the news or sexual orientation,
my hopes, my dreams, of equality, of peace,
She demands my worship stop or my heart cease,
Upon the Derwent I shall row
You sit in stern, and I in bow
Let’s drift away then wave by wave,
Play hide and seek in high and low.
I whisper, things I dare not say,
You blush, you smile, and look away,
Our eyes meet in waves beneath,
And this is how we play, all day.
A cherished childhood spent cocooned in my inward-looking community,
Protected me from the indoctrination of a white-privileged history.
But when I stepped into a world where brown was under-represented
My identity…Was molested.
My speech, skin, hair and dress, seemed to cause the white man stress.
And brown was a tan on the white man’s skin,