Woman! Woman! Woman, to you we call!
by Zhamour Y.Sibaya on Friday, November 6, 2009 at 3:56pm,Dear Journal
She sings by the voice of many,
she is shame to light,
dark shadows shun her shade,
she carries their tempo,
and keeps the symphomonious.
She sits on thistles that prickle the pore,
nobody knows what the linens hide
they only stare mesmerised by the fabric
Woman! Weeping willow, Woman! Woman hear, me.
He crawls and shells into a corner,
Wearing a hat of old,
He is a chop
so they say…
In the dark he finds light.
there his fears are curtailed by the iron strength of security,
there in the dark,
light is a little mouse,
on the chase,
with no place for home,
with a geskok he shoos it away.
Woman! Woman! Woman hear, me.
Here i am,
I sit on the beam of sun cascading from the sky
and painting the the rock
whiter than white,
like a drop of dew in winter’s thirst,
my skin mesmerised by the entice of heat,
I am forced to face the light…
Africa!Africa’s Nest! Woman hear, me.
She was betrayed at a feeble four,
Born to bear,
a woman before her time,
The stripes of zebra on her legs,
whisper a tale taboo
Who would say
that a carrier of a womb and piles of umbilicals
would be the bearer of his mares.
a tincture of existence
I cannot end,
but the rape of innocence in children,
is a sin of another kind.
Yet, dispite the spit of dusk in her face,
She rises. She Walks to lead, Talks to Teach, Teaches to Heal, Touches to unite, she Nurtures, Laughs to create and carve dreams from the cobwebs of faded life..
Woman! Woman! Woman hear, me. Mother of Shaka and Phillip!!! Yes, that is you…
Woman, Wholeness of man.
Africa teethes at her breast.
Woman, woman, to you the sun rises!