come home to yourself

a poem by Sinaso Pamela Mxakaza, South Africa

To the women we are in this new age, victims of lost homes and buried history. Possibilities of being rape victims because men can and justice is asleep. Some are confused by love to stay. Stay in crumbling homes dusting spider webs away but they cling to our skins in mockery. But real women stay. And hope they can fix these broken homes that echo lost sons. She pours prayer into every empty chamber, the loss and cold crawl all over her until her husband no longer wants her. She stays, raising the kids. To the misery we are to ourselves that we can't be to other people. The horror of showing our bodies to the world. Owning our sexiness and knowing pleasure by name. It's dirty. In a world where saintly covered women are torn to shreds, assaulted and molested. Excuse my forwardness, if i am to be a sexual depositing place for men. A bearer of mankind and get no satisfaction of being a core of existence. Allow me to own this shit. Body and soul. To coming home to ourselves before putting all our strength into making these houses into places with life..

let me tell you something
Our children have nomadic eyes
Our children have nomadic eyes

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