Use Me

Break me; like pieces of glass

And use those to reflect your glory.

Kill me, many times over;

and those dead parts of  Continue reading


I Don’t Know When I started Falling In Love With People

I don’t know when I started falling in love with people, but it definitely started with the stories in the books.

These living machines.

I’ve found hearts in between words and eyes on top of letters under punctuation that sheds tears and metaphors that respire.
I’ve found meaning in alphabets that become love when syllables marry
Continue reading

Polite Notice To Romeos & Boazs

These boys see me & want my roses but forget I am mostly thorn; pleasant looking things are sometimes the most poisonous.
They tell me I am beautiful & I tell them I am blind; it doesn’t matter what curtains or walls I wear, I only see what is within.
They have been trying to hold my hands not knowing I only know how to let go; I have perfected the art of distance ever since daddy moved my family from home to nestle in a desert.
They are impressed by my words not remembering that charm is deceitful; I was birthed from a well of words right at the base of my mother’s book-encrusted uterus enabled by my father’s ink-stained love for her & this alphabet has become my forte.

Continue reading

On Days Like This

On days like this, on days when shadows of lovers come calling from the past,we just let the feelings flood.
We let our hearts sink and our eyes leak.
We let the waters swim their current on our journal pages
and we comfort ourselves after welcoming back names of pain we had let become strangers.
On days like this we weep.
We fight back the feelings we sweep under flying mats of lost hopes and regret having bought dreams about future forevers in that present.
We reminisce, then mourn the thoughts that carry us to the reality that we gave counterfeits the value of the real deal.

Continue reading

I Am Not My Own

I’m constantly mourning a pain I am yet to feel. My dying heart, why do you flop so?
It’s hard enough that my skin betrays me when I look in the mirror, it looks away & refuses to show me its beauty.
I have been searching for my smile, but it too, like my depreciating self-esteem, doesn’t want to see me.
And so, I am left behind with my insecurities for lotion and a crumbling self-worth for tea. I’m not sure where I decided I didn’t need Christ anymore, perhaps it was in the storm and the desert winds that I let go of His hand. Maybe it was when I thought it was too cold and too hot, too painful & too shameful. And now that it seems calm, I don’t know where to start looking. I have lost all my maps, I don’t have my compass.

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The Woman

She sits there on her rocking chair, the one that her son bought her to ease the exhaustion that having creaking bones brings. She stares right into the face of the setting sun and remembers the days of her youth when looking into the sky didn’t make her temporarily blind. Those days were good, but she is happy where she is. She is happy with her memories, the fond ones that keep her company on days like this when it feels like the rapture has come early. There is no one in sight, not even a whisper of a soul. She is just fine being alone; she learnt early in life to speak the language of solitude. She decided long ago to embrace the beauty of being enough even when Continue reading

Broken Mirrors Could Never Break Her Smile

This piece is a dedication by one of my dearest friends; Xola Mehlomakhulu, to broken, tired and hurt souls like mine has been, that learn to eventually find healing in the comfort of Christ; a piece that found me in shadows I would not have pried myself from were it not for these words…Thank you Xola.


None of life’s models could ever walk a mile in the times of her sanity

None of life’s cameras could ever picture the bruises left in the shadows of her bravery

Phantom the pain lingering in her timeline memory

Face the pages of a book stained with her wrists’ blood

Accept and like the world that almost tore her apart

Look at a mirror that’s Continue reading


These boys who hurt us; these men, these friends, these fathers, these husbands, these brothers

They don’t understand what they do when they play with our parts, when they tear us apart, when they throw us away.

We may look like human dolls, but we were never meant to be toyed with.


We give them our fingers when we paint our nails to cover the dirt that we dig up in the gardens planting & nurturing seeds of life

We give them our necks when we adorn our collars with pearls to cover the marks of broken shoulders bent from Continue reading

The Stars Have Lost Their Value

This piece is by my blood, my sister & my part-time muse; Scola Grace Mukami Murote;

The stars have lost their value…
stripped of glory they fall face down on the earth..
sparkle fades into a dimming light,

we see beauty nonetheless ,

we do not know….

the stars have lost their value…
as if to shield our sinful ways from Continue reading

The Laughter In My Mother’s Eyes

The laughter in my mothers eyes has seen many tears prior to it’s shine.

The laughter in my mother’s eyes has watched rivers run dry.

The laughter in my mother’s eyes has taught her three daughters to fight on their knees.

The laughter in my mother’s eyes heals my wounds when my heart bleeds.

She is not Jesus but she has done nothing but point me to the Christ.

She is not Savior but she has picked me off the floors of my Continue reading