This poem is about peace
It's not about sticks and stones used to break foreigners bones
It's not about passport stamps, social class or learning to speak in the right accent
It's not about learning to say "e ndololwane" before making your way to a taxi rank
...
Shakespeare wrote
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet"
This is probably one of the most beautifully phrased western notions I have ever come across
...
Even now
As I lay my head down to rest
My memories of you have already begun to lose their wonder
And by the time I wake
...
Write me letters
I want to see your love
Write them in your own hand
I want to see the subtle tremor in your fingers
...
Born on the 16th of January 1996, Mpimanyeto Mashimbye is a writer and poet raised in post-apartheid South Africa. The experiences of his early childhood to adulthood are split between the small town of Louis Trichardt (now Makhado) , Pretoria, Polokwane and Johannesburg. Moving into different settings frequently during these periods exposed him to the many differences that exist among the people and to led him to questioning his own place in these spaces. As the son of a social worker and a scientist he attributes his world view to his continued exposure to modes of thinking that are constantly at opposite ends of the spectrum, allowing him to see his world from both perspectives. His poetry draws from the abstract experiences of existing in a shifting South African context where matters of national identity, inclusion and historic oppression are common discussions in the young democracy. Mashimbye currently resides in the city of Johannesburg.)
Eve
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Sinner
Queen
Mother
Prostitute
Very scary
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Forbidden fruit
Beautiful fruit
Barren fruit trees
And
Miracle seeds
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Black skin
Street corner
Dirty brown hair
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Scorching sun
Baking concrete
Bare feet
Stained towel
Bruised spirit
Homeless
Single mother
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Empty breast
Starving baby
Crying mother
Red robot
White Mercedes
Brown coins rattling in dry cup
Engine humming
Radio
Rihanna
Rihanna
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Green robot
No Mercedes
Brown coins dry cup
Prayer
Prayer
Mothers laugh
Crooked smile
Baby's fed
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
She sits on street corners
She works minimum wage jobs
She cleans your kitchens and waters your gardens
Her children
Her children
All to feed her children
It's no coincidence that the word martyr rhymes with mother
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Her hand on the bible in churches with paintings of white Jesus
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
What good are your stories to her now?
Eve, Adam said it was you.
Sara, Abraham resented you because he couldn't have children.
Esther, Xerxes sought after you for your beauty and nothing more.
Mary, immaculate conception without your consent.
Mary, sold your body, sold your body because the world gave you no options.
Eve
Sara
Esther
Mary
Mary
Sinner
Queen
Mother
Prostitute
Very
Scary