Tears of the heart

Why does it be, why,
Why is this heart so torn apart,
Ripped into countless pieces of an unfitting puzzle

Is this heart that loves so much to be punished,
Banished to infinite desperation,
Despair-ation which knows prayer but not answers

How does it be, how
How, that I love man and hate my Creator,
Man exists with me to love and war with,
He who created exists only to deny me,
He refuses me the key to the puzzle,
The puzzle, a conundrum He tossed asunder into my life

I’m a wandering Mighty,
A royal soul trailing in the cold shadows,
Cold, dark shadows of dunes of a hot desert,
To say I’m lost is to suggest I shall be found,
To contemplate that someone is seeking me,
No, I’m not lost, I’m banished to infinite emptiness

What is this, this… this POWER,
Royal mightiness cast upon me,
A force worth all the gold in the world,
Ahhh, so valuable, so measurable, falleable,

What about my invaluable desperation,
What about the heart of my dream,
Will that too be granted,
Oh no, it is denied by He, forever denied

It is denied… denied… denied

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Mikhaela’s tragedy

[]WARNING: Some readers may be offended.[]

Sob, sob, it is no use for me,
I can sob all I want, but this place,
This dark place which never shone light on me,
This eve-of-earth is my birth and death place

Sob, sob, it is of no gain,
For my mother never knew me,
I never felt the touch of her soft skin on my pain,
How my wretched skin longs for it

Sob, sob, it is fruitless tears of shame,
Consolation – this place my spirit is trapped in at least has a name,
It’s called grave

My father, I never knew,
His strong hands never caressed this dry skin,
His adoration – in his heart – flew,
I bet it was not even enough to be shamed as too lean

Sob, sob, where is my name?
What is my name?
Was I going to be named A, B, C or Z?
No, my sense, when it was not only a trapped spirit heard a voice full of buzz,
A sweet voice sang to me, Mikhaela, Mikhaela,
Mikhaela, oh Mikhaela

Was that to be my name?
I'm not Mikhaela,
There was no ceremony to name me,
I have no name

What was I to be, a girl, a boy?
Was I to be light, dark?
Was my nose to be sharp, hair curly and rich black?

Sob, sob, what do the others conceived in my time look like, like me?
Do they today life and its spoils enjoy?
Was I to play with them?
Was I to give mama and papa joy, pain, joy, pain, perhaps joy?

Trapped, trapped, will I ever escape this dark place?
At least it has a name,
And surely I don't have

Trapped trapped, will my spirit ever escape,
But I have to rejoice,
My spirit, in this dark place, must have a reason to rejoice,
For I hear mama walk, dance, sing,
And I feel her express her love,
Where is my itsy bitsy of the spoils?
Must I demand it? No, me, spirit –
I can’t make demands. No rights

When do I die as a spirit?
My body is no more, it has never been,
My eyes, with fire of the sun were never lit

Sob sob, I only die when mama is no more and stops to dance,
NO, I MUST PROTECT MAMA, I must protect mama, sob some more,
But I need to look out for my own plans,
What plans? I’m a lingering spirit banished forever in a dark place

Sob sob, I sob not for me,
I sob for mama’s protection so she doesn’t die,
But what of me?

Sob sob, I’ll linger in her womb,
No, my spirit will linger – it must not be a bomb,
Till she is no more

But no, I must protect mama.
Sob sob.

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I am what I am

I am big, big as the Himalayas where my fathers played seek and hide on;
I am big, big as the Kilimanjaro that my forefathers medidated on;
I am big, big as the fists of the freedom fighters that fought on;

I am beautiful, beautiful as the sun kissed dunes of the Kalahari;
I am beautiful, beautiful as the moon whose light caress the valleys of St. Lucia;
I am pretty, pretty as the lillies that drape the curves of Tanzania;

I am, I am what I am because Africa is big, beautiful and pretty;
I am, I am what I am because Africa is big, beautiful and lovely;
I am, I am what I am, because I am lucky to be born in the midst of Africa, earths own beauty;

I am strong, strong like the baobab tree whose roots drink in the womb of the earth;
I am strong, strong like the continent's elephant whose footsteps shake the world from South to North;
I am tough, tough like the jaw of the Hyena, whose mysterious force crafted the only face-like continent with its teeth;

I am creative, creative like the meander of the Nile whose motion intrigues minds;
I am creative, creative like the African stars whose twinkle hypnotyzes the gods;
I am smart, smart like the San hunter whose sharpness and speed bedazzles the tigers;

Oh I am good, so good I know the colorful fabrics of Nigeria and Venda celebrate my heritage;
Oh I am worthy, so worthy I know the rain drops of Queen Modjadji celebrate my care for the soil of our climate change age;
Oh my, I am damned great, so great like the water-smoke of the Victoria Falls waters the lillies that beautify heaven's own Main Avenue;

I am, I am what I am because Africa is strong, tough but smart;
I am, I am what I am because Africa is good, worthy but damned great;
I am, I am what I am, because I am lucky to be born in the midst of Africa, earth's own strength;

I am, I am what I am; I am an African;
Like Mbeki sang, sang, sang, and sang again an eternal echo of hope that I am an African;
So I am, I am what I am, because my Africa is beautiful.


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