We have forgotten

I do not expect you to understand my pain for it wasn’t your body that was touched, prodded, poked, in places once sacred now no longer secret, now they are displayed publicly in photos and videos you like and share at that moment. In that time you think you feel my embarrassment yet you do nothing more than label me a a statistic and the next day, you forget.

I do not blame you, we just wanted to grew up and protect ourselves

But we grew up broken and they? Outspoken

To talk about us, to us as if we weren’t there.

We grew up. Silenced. And they? Liberated. To take anything anytime from us our bodies were not our own. We grew up

Because it is only when someone is beaten do we remember how precious life is only when someone is raped, do we remember privacy and self expression rights we have for ourselves.

Only when someone is killed do we remember the sanctity of life.

Shouldn’t we be aware all the time? And converse about these issues without a reminder of an international day?

Because every day someone is beaten, insulted, raped, killed, affected infected.

AIDS is no longer fashionable right? We’ve just stopped talking about it cause ARVs can help us.

But still there are people who have no clue of the pain about what it is to love and to lose to HIV.

We are tired right? We no longer want to talk about the pain. We’d rather click, swipe, screenshot, steal people’s stories into our own.

We forgot the scars we bare were once wounds and they can’t heal. Because we chose to ignore the elephant I’m the room. That HIV is here, ignoring it doesn’t make it disappear.


I am not the only one


This poem is a collection of stories that need to be heard.

These dates will not go down in history because they are not important and not yours to remember….

July 7th 2007, a boy snapped my bra without permission

Some girls laughed, maybe you were one of them.

August 28th 2011, a man whistled and threw stones at me for refusing to talk back.

July 18th 2015, my boyfriend smashed me against the wall and said he was sorry

November 9th 2015, my boyfriend wiped off my make up with slaps, insinuating I had another man

October 15th 2017 A man told me to my face a woman is powerless and nothing without a man.

But I am not the only one, who had to wear layers of clothing in fear to show a bit a flesh to strangers

To men, who wait preying on young girls forgetting their mothers were little girls.

I had to be modest, society tells me.

I am not the only one

Who had to sieve their words when angry

For a woman is expected to listen more and talk less

Society tells me!

I am not the only one who had to carry the baby of their molester

For church doesn’t allow abortion and society tells you a woman is credible only when they’ve given birth.

They disregard the pain apparently the ends justify the means. Right?

I am not the only one who got a lifetime sickness and got trapped by unswalloble pills.

Cousellers do not allow me to heal they tell me to deal with my hurt as if it can be erased. It can’t be.

I am not only one who lost babies due to miscarriages due toxic love that abuser would change.

I am not the only one who watched their mother lay mercilessly on the floor at the hands of a father drunk on power.

I am not the only one.

P.A.W. © 2017

Heartbreak survival

Fire flickers flames softly burn up the silence.  I could hear your heartbeat.  Slow. Did you forget i fought your demons late night.  At times you promised to capture mine too but you got busy trying to mute the silent screams that engulfed you. You lost us. I was busy saving you. Then the rope I held on untied and took me out.

You were my air. I took in all of you.  Unfiltered. I thought you’d save the pieces of the memories we built.  Unknowingly.  We put together a collage of broken frames.  Of moments we made without course.  Yet you took all of me.  Laid bare.

I look at you and I wish you’d remember the depth with which I kept you. The strength with which I held on.  Onto you. But you were already gone.

Virtual love (2)

This is the story of the main protagonist whom you met last year. This time she tells you about the events that lead to that fateful night.

“I closed one eye whilst my finger was above the right click of the mouse, accepting a stranger. But you were never a stranger. I however knew you before all this, before choices were made and distance of you from me, like a breath being needed to be felt, a heart beat needing to be heard was so close. As if then, the click will bring you to me. We had been living separately, in different places, different states of minds. And that time years ago when we loved each other, we were not hiding behind fake names and photos and lives. I hope it is not too late, that we still have a chance.

It took  me years to find you. I had spent years trying to reconnect but the bitterness and the disapproval of our love drove me into an accident that laid me in a coma. I am not blaming you, do not get me wrong. In that time I became a woman, but my feelings stayed true, true to finding my true love. But love is not easy to find. So I hope you don’t mind me saying all this, I really hope you get to understand why I had been gone so long, and why I am here now.

I had not planned on a fake account but what could I have done  with the internet swamped with people who wanted to take advantage? I just wanted to stalk you from afar, give occasional likes and share your statuses, your photos, like a hopeless groupie from afar. I knew you could not know who I was. A lot had changed. I had changed.”

After typing all that, her fingers swollen and hurting and almost bleeding, she read the inbox out loud, After all the energy and her ideas , she erased all of those words you just read. She closed her eyes and clicked on the unfriend button of his account but the internet stayed buffering on and the universe never allowed her to act on that. She retrieved this conversation from the last log in, where the laptop saved her thoughts without permission and laid bare her emotions….

Race Wars

Rainwashed tears
Invisible yet echo
Though the rain
The wind sings of
Unsung heroes
They forget the dying cries
Of mothers with
Breasts full of hope
Of their lovers
Seeds now blooming.
The rain washes their
Tears yet they still
Mourn for the brothers
Who knifed their lovers
Their sons fathers
Because apparently black
Has shades
And traces the faces
Of the different races.
Racing time does not heal.
Instead it steals moments.