A Belly Of Candles Of Mahogany Wax Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

For I have come to just put this candle,
here down here in this hole, where bats fly,
where birds sing during the day on these trees,
and as I walk away, the light shines on,
to be blown out when the wick is gone,
and the air no longer blows into these,
my nostrils that suck it daily,
on an in and out basis,
that I learned the day I arrived,
In this grotto so quiet
in this belly of the queens
that surround me with their roundness
which they hold with outstretched hands.

All the candles glow on.
Mine sits and shines,
dripping its bronze wax down,
leaving ants under it,
and sand to tarnish it,
for when I have gone,
I will look back and say,
it was a candle of bronze wax,
that melted and burnt my hands,
and fell through them in dots,
that let it harden on the surface,
where one day someone stands,
having forgotten I once lived,
a sheet of melted mahogany wax,
that was blown out on some fiercely
windy day.

Remold me in your mind,
for I want to remain alive,
and tie knots of love,
with everybody I know,
who is coming to share,
that I once was a queen,
that knew births and deaths,
in small acts of living,
that stung me like syringes,
with poison in their words,
that pushed themselves deep,
and became hard to take out,
only to be laid at the grotto,
in confessions about life
of a candle of mahogany wax;
yes a candle of ebony too,
the sceptre with no gold tip,
to keep it burning forever,
in the ears of ebony wax,
and eyes of ivory and black,
that burn on making holes,
that glare on and on as they melt,
till day break greets us too,
with the handshake of prosperity.