Swimming In Our Own Divided Pool Up To Our Necks Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

With bare hearts openly divided,
we walk in our own divided muk.
This mud in our pool calls you
red and me blue. We walk in our
own fences blinded by words that
make us know ideas are stronger
than shackles.

This redness is in a Red Sea blue,
has the aftertaste of water from
the Dead Sea. What do the dead say
when we somersault in division. Our
tongues cover the walls of the world
wallpaper of division.

When the division was knee dip,
we saw where we were going. The
mud has got murine and the rest hasgot hidden n the dumpsters where we threw the truth away
N








in the


wallpapee