This: the beginning, the end
Is my finality
Not another moment longer
Not an eternity of privileges
I am at task
To look good and exceptional
At little liberty to iniquity,
To work and to excel to society’s standards.
Conforming to her belly of traditions
Is the secret to any existence?
My existence!
If I was to fall in love
Discretion is my padlock
Bearing of course that
My affair is in accordance to the eyes of my society
Nay, Nay I am lonesome creature
If I fail to abide
I am to be….
To be kept in exile
From the love, support, compassion
And the confidence of family and friends
If I was to choose a trend
Surely one would be aware
Of what society considers to be
‘The ins and outs’ of style
Difference is a shameful shadow
Your safety and freedom threatened
Man to man
Born alike
Customs unalike
Set abound
Feeling alike
You are prone to commit to this
My beginning
And my end
My faith not sufficient
This could be my finality
but I choose to give in to difference
and be cast away!
My traditions
The norms and forms of society
Than to fall short of my heart’s desire
 To be
To love….my way
Looking for freedom
Searching for my roots
Africa my soul
This revolution
This renaissance
They call progression
Is poison to my bloodline
Blackmail to my culture
Mother earth silent
To whom do I send
My thunder-some cries?
Where is that womb
For me to shelter in
This earth is a contamination
Its inhabitants poison to future civilization
Stuck between two frontiers
I am a generation
Of civilization-detribalised!
Zhamour Yvonne Sibaya
25 April 2003

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