Life. Poem by Thabani Khumalo

I hadn't known all my life. I hadn't smoothly come of age. It was brave to hearken to wise words, but it was passively craven from the heart of all my hearts. I was surged down by the burden of taking up the fight; the pressure of fighting amiss the steel and stone and the people that utilize them.

The commotion of my childhood dubbed me a very heavy heart. The reasons for all this were ambiguous and a manifold; too numerous count. I was a dogmatic idolator, my beautiful mother - a shining idol - and I was played like a puppet: coitus was sordid and upon such I embedded my faith. She had sparkling whims of religion and of life.

As much I was instructed to deign before the invisible Lord of Heaven and the gnostic society deplored my state by bearing only ugly girls; beautiful girls would have made me resurge above the systems of belief.

I was put into an embattled world and there was ogre around to pounce on my sweet soul. I prayed everyday for the tidal abate, I was devoured by thoughts that chowed my nerves. I was left a mere wreck of nerves loosely hanging onto a broken spine.

Sordid was coitus and holy was the invisible God of paradise - God who long threatened to penalize us for our fallible nature. I have only been the effect of punishment and never the cause of it; I have known the strife of a hiding and the batten of the rod.

I was conditioned to not love but to hate the foes that surround me. I only love to hate and I was drilled in fighting until I bled. I was as tough as a stone off an encrusted shell and I was difficult to deal with like a cold. My hard shell made me move as slow as a tortoise.