Bongiwe Ndlovu Poems

I will give my shoes to walk a mile in them.
I will give you my shoes so that you can step into my life and have an experience.
I could give you my shoes so that you can see what I hold inside but I know that you can never handle what I deal with.
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Your touch was so firm that when you held my hand I felt the warmth like spasms. My breath was short because you kissed me too hard. I mistook the loud voice and rage for Love. I thought crying was what comfort meant. Even with the name calling and cruelty to human kind, I still have Love for you. They call you a monster because of your inhuman acts but my heart refuses to believe them.

Threats so real that taking them for promises was easy. The sound of irrelevant punches sounds like the melody of loving hearts. Your hugs so tight that my heart felt seizures as you lean towards me. I thought the heavy breaths were significant accomplices of respect. I mistook Words spoken under breath for some form of gentle whispers.
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I wish you wouldn't say the words I Love you because I don't know what Love is. I am not familiar with the feeling nor the meaning. I have tried to love but I found out it wasn't what love is. Sometimes I wish I could rip out your heart and squeeze it so tight that it bursts, so that I can see what love is.
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I will never scream on top of my lungs and brag that I am poet. You will never hear me tell you that I'm a writer and I make different words rhyme. But allow me..to tell you who I am. I am the capturer of thought, the analyst of emotions. I am thief of words, a photographer of dancing sentences, I am a mender of broken hearts, a doctor to constipated minds. I am a feeling to the numb, a sweat to the active, I am a robber of hidden agendas, painter of imaginations.

I will never say I am a poet..but allow me to introduce myself. I am a teacher to those who don't know how to rip a pen a paper, I am a surgeon to those who bleed. I am reaper of great emotions, a remedy to swollen hearts. I am a farmer to dry crops and dead leaves. I am the rain dropp in summer, the fertilised soil in spring. I am the manure to a farmer, I am a home to the homeless, the love to the loveless, the warmth to the cold hearted.
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I fought a loosing battle against my father. Where once resided the lilies and daisies, lay sin and shamefulness. I welcomed bitterness and I let him lay on my bosom. I fought a loosing battle against my father, where mercy and grace once ruled; I let anger and hurt to take refuge.
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You left me standing at your door step, I called on your name but you didn't answer. I screamed your initials but u were too deaf to hear. I rolled on my own tears, day after day I had hoped u would recognise me and my teary swollen eyes. You watched as I bled and pleaded, begging u to accept what I had to offer.

I spent restless nights, summer hot days in hope that u would finally accept the love I had for u. I offered u my arm of protection, the voice of peace, the silence of love and the words of courage, but u turned me down with no word uttered, no comfort offered and no compassion raised.
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He sang me a lullaby that would hurt for a long time
He sang me a lullaby with the words unspoken.
He sang me a lullaby of a none ending story with hurt and sadness that would rip my heart apart and leave my eyes turning into a river.
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I will not say no to the pain that you provide me with. Dish it up and serve it with sorrow, I would like to dip it in my tears and I would like to take my time to swallow. Make sure my fork is on the right hand of anguish, and my knife on the left hand of screams.
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5 and half attempts of committing suicide, you would think that she had learnt her lesson.
Many rejections later, u would think that she had learnt to be strong.
Many back stabbings later, you would think that she had healed and moved on.
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I have a story to tell, yet my body trembles when i have to stand and speak out.
I have a story to tell but my voice fades away every time i try to voice it out. I have tried to write it on a note book, but my pen ran out ink.
I have a story to tell, but nobody is willing to listen.
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