I am a girl, young
Blushing at my immoral want
For and of sexual freedom
Blushing at my commoditised yet denied sensuality
I am a young woman, weeping
At the burden of right on my shoulders
I weep at the inevitable shame on my face
When I finally tell a tale of two thighs
And escapades unplanned,
And solicited ecstasies.
I weep at the sight of my people's backs
Rigid with contempt.
So, in clandestine corners, sacred altars of the ancestors
The blushing girls and weeping women gather
To call upon timeless matriarchs
In repentance of carrying a blood too clean.
They half appease and half entreat for wisdom
Passed through laboured screams in the dead of night
Unto waiting hands of a woman
The nectar in your veins was born in my womb
Its boil conceived at Lilith
Burnt kings to ashes and civilizations to history
It gave rise to women of your name.
The spit came
In imperialist ships, preached
Among your people and beaten
Against this we have fought and
Forward you shall also fight.
I am being human. The rest is astrology, numerology, the hinterland and the navigation of institutionalized colonialism, apartheid, patriarchy, capitalism, heteronormativity, corruption, violence, fatphobia etc.