Author: Kudzai P. Chidamba

A chant in-distant,

The woes of a woman engraved in soil

Skin bathed in lashes of the suns assault, scotched, bruised, bold, a discovery, untainted.

So rich, engraved in your deep browns are the songs of her eloquent strides as she demands attention. To which she deserves, unquestionably

Dear black woman,

I see your struggles

I hear your battle cries

The sound of la lioness defending her pride

The sound of victors no victims here!

With her head held high she walked with the stride of a stallion

A rare beast much as she is.

Dear black woman,

You’re worth every breath you take

If I could I would give you a rose for every breath you took

If I could I’d lay this planet by your feet

If asked,

I would fight through storms,

Just to fall in bliss as I listen to you speak your mind!!!

Because really “ain’t nobody gon’ tell you non”

The definition of raw perfection

A canvas so broad a spectrum

They could paint a future in it

Your honey suckled eyes they could get lost in

pray and hope not to be found for home is what they will found in you.

Can you hear them,

They talk of your journey

Because you’ve been through hell and back

They beat you down but you came victor

Your battles wounds,

Fine lines of literature told to the next!!!

The sands of time,

Familiar with your taste

For the mark you’ve left…

So great a difference

All others leave a dry taste in its mouth

Dear Black Woman

Beautiful and budding just like a rose

So delicate in kind but your bite

even thorns lay no claim to your work of art

Dear Black Woman,

You are enough

You are courage

The true definition of strength

An overcomer

You rose even when they wished you wilt and die

You rose because each season pays tribute to the melanin that sets you apart

The sun so generous

It lashes your skin with its assaults

So who are they to taunt you and say otherwise?

Whether celebrated, imitated, exploited, or denigrated

Whether natural from inside or skillfully applied

Dear black woman

Forever youthful a phoenix that rises from the ash

You shall be victorious

Maybe he was a dream

Well,

A dream not quite meant to come true

Not for me at least.

But one could possibly fool themselves into thinking

Maybe

Because in his eyes I saw forever

But

Just not with me

Maybe,

On his lips he spoke so ferverently

Words that caressed my sensitive skin

I should have known

Maybe

My body, a betrayer

Bending to every each of his wills.

But I see now,

Maybe

Well,

Maybe he was just a dream

A dream I wish not to awaken

A dream so vivid

I can hardly believe it came but in my childhood

My heart aches the second I wake

Each breath I take,

Bated silently hoping

Maybe

I hear his voice in the wind as it carrasses

His scent in the rain

His face, pictures in the sand

His touch in the water

Mother is livid I almost sank right into his arms

Maybe

His baritone lulls me to sleep each night

A rhythm of forget me nots

Twined and coiled with promises yet not fulfilled

Because

Well,

Maybe.

Here is my solace,

The words I dare not speak,

I engrave with golden ink,

Far from life

My feet shall sink,

In distance voices shrike,

‘How shrewd’, I thought

With even not a shred of courage

I dare sew my mouth shut,

Quivering in corners of the dark abyss,

A haven quiet and peaceful

An illusion,

For the scars that mar my skin,

The thorns that poke my shin,

The stones that weigh my heart,

All gone without trace

But who shall shield me from these daunting swines.

Caged and untamed,

running wild,

A broke record.

I run not far behind the curve of my ear to the edge of the mountain, facing south,

Down the ten valleys of the fallen Kings

Cornered in

eerie silence,

the silence feeds,

The silence brings,

the devil’s spawn to play.

But I’m Alone,

Darkness is abundance,

As they come out to place their claim.

My thoughts, their pan,

Scoundrels!!!,

What awaits I fear

I dare not close my eyes.

I need that which I despise,

Brother to which I love

but can no longer bare,

I defy him, as my hatred shines through and through,

I wish for his departure only to cry in agony begging for his return as his twin brother brings forth his skeletons to haunt the hollow streets of thought.

So strong and compelling,

A place I wish to run from,

But time and again I fail to succor but wonder helplessly as I’m carried back head first down the corridors of memory lane.

Screams left, right,

Up, down, it echos,

I’m suffocating,

A porcelain doll, trapped within plastic

Clouds upon clouds but still no blinding lights.

This, a losing fight but I dare waste breath after breath

Till the rivers run dry, and the birds sing my name.

A chant in-distant,

The woes of a woman engraved in soil

You hear her cries,

Her agony,

Her heart wrenching with every fist, every word

A broken record, she almost sought it to be true

Drilled in her vision are tainted memories

stripping her of her armor, her pride, her joy, her youth, her rights

But alas! is it not that silence supports the accusers charge?

You watch her beaten, butted and broken

Yet cowardly, you bite your tongue,

“Not my monkey, not my circus”?

If so then swallow the words you chant in the public

Swallow the words as well when it is your own child on the line

Do not make a ruckus and riot in our streets when your own house is on fire!

What say that makes you?

“No it’s his right”

His right?

His right to mar the fresh not of his making?

His right to beat and bruise that which he did not create?

You laugh and maim a child of the soil and they let you,

You with vainglorious intent,

Hold no power, as you prey on the weak to feel superior.

How Nefarious!

Shame be engraved within your heart

Shame on you.

Evil counsel travels fast,

yet again foolishness is indeed the sister of wickedness.

She who you have shamed and maimed will stand victor once more,

After all,

Is it not your pain that makes you stronger?

Careful,

The sheep in lion cloth will soon become the prey.

Kudzai Chidamba

Im trying to come up with a few words
In difficulty do we realize
At the end of the day the pain does not compliment the outcome,
Now does it?
We use excuses to make ourselves miserable
How vain!!!
They say “no pain, no gain”
“its just what people do”
We can not have a minute to breathe
Oh no how dare we? Let’s sacrifice that too.

You fight for nothing and give up everything for ephemeral encounters that fade with the stars when morning light shows its presence.
There are problems to be solved, mouths to be fed, deadlines to be met and goals to be checked yet we do NOT realise life is filled and florished with such same demises come a new dawn. You run away not from your problem you create more dark, dangerous and deadly monsters within your viewpoint.

you would be a fool to believe the more pain you inflict in disguise of sacrifice for a brighter tomorrow, the lesser your problems become because as the sun rises over the horizon so do more problems and excuses
Stop giving excuses to be miserable to save someone else
You do not have to sacrifice to be happy because
You are worth every breath you take

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Maybe I’ve said a little too much, my words know no bounds as my ink knows no end and my books know no climax. It has become a norm of unending rains.

Maybe I’ve bled a little too loud, with age I have come to understand that dancing in the rain will do me more harm than good, I won’t find a knight in shining armor waiting to sweep me off my feet!

No!

that’s Cinderella not me, what I would find however, is just another dreaded visit to the doctors office leaving a dent in my pocket. I’d rather not try.

No happily ever afters, it seems the story has not even began and yet here I am to vent and complain about how hard it has been, how many sores and scars it have painted on my canvas.

Time and time again, you give to the world all you’ve got.

when you start, you have the strength of a thousand bulls, faith of a mastered seed, you have drive, to which the world will swallow hole and tell you “hey! Work harder you aren’t doing enough”

Aren’t doing enough?

I feel as though I’m doing more than my plate should take.

I am doing the best I can, if your single minded stuck up ego can not appreciate what I bring to the table

I don’t belong to your table. I think it’s high time I build my own and save myself the embarrassment of being on yours! This time I get to pick what is out on it and it’s me who will dictate who shall be on it. My table is not build for everyone because not everyone will go to the deep with me. And everyone sees what I see up ahead.

My table that you will not be apart of, will be anything but what you’ve deemed fit. Society won’t approve of a woman’s table but hey who needs them anyway. Their lost within themselves and so have you lost your way.

Be calm, you’ve made your bed

now you shall sleep in it.

For in my mind, I’ve learnt now I’m ready to strive and conquer on my table which knows no bounds or constrain

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Cradled in her arms, is her heart, her heart which knows no end, her heart which has been revived over and over and over but still it yearns to give more and receive less than deserved.

It’s the tears and wails of sadness it emits from dust till dawn leaving her unable to breath, to forget the torments and thorns prying her mind till she breaks down to shambles.

Within her mind, are horrors you could not fathom, a dark void of desolation.

Within her mind, are words thrown to torture, strain and break her.

Within her mind, are doors, hidden within are snakes, a new breed, a new devil unheard of he calls you friend, sister, lover.

He lures you in with his dashing smiles and hoax concern, he moves closer and when you least expect he strangles you with his face unveiled.

It hits hard but the lesson is harder and the result is the hardest.

Because, within her mind

All who came close were roses that drew blood.

Within her mind was a kiss softer than a bated heart.

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~