Eswatini Says This. Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Once called Swaziland,
a land of a people,
now Eswatini.

When countries talk,
do we listen? Yet now
I come saying do.

Mine has spoken loud.
Call me Eswatini,
for that is what I am.

In no language can I be
what I am now. I deserve
the calling. I will answer
when you shout in the valleys.

This finger I point at the self
goes deep into me, a choice.
Call me and I will answer.

Nobody names themselves,
yet I do ask and demand,
for not to do so,
would lead to misnaming.

They called me a land,
when I did not land
anywhere. Now call me
at this landing, and
here I come, Eswatini,
for you and all.

It is a long road,
from a land to none.
Removal of the tears,
the roughing, the naming,
the misnaming, can all
be held in one hand.
The moment chooses
that we do it now.

Ask no questions.
Listen to no news,
until you hear me,
saying it is my news.

At the snap of a finger,
I will rise only if you
call me by this name.
I lay down for too long.