Walking In My Own Kalahari Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Words small, big rough, round,
I am the desert spreading far.
Today started when I saw the light.
It will end as I lay in the dark,
With stars looking at me,
And sand dunes like sheets hugging me.

Feet kicking the air in from of me,
Missing it, yet riding on in plods,
As if angry inside my tired shoes,
With grits of sand inside my socks,
As I trudge in this Kalahari.
Of sand dunes sky high
Like those of the Namib yonder.

My little toe is shy,
It suffers hiding at the side,
Like the days I would not read,
When the teacher pointed at me.

My boldness is new,
Like the big toe it sticks out,
And stands out there unafraid,
Who is this so loud with a pen?
When yesterday I was silent.

Once I was like my middle toes,
With no song but a mime,
Doing everything I was told,
Just around the age of one,
Now everybody knows I can walk,
Talk too, ladies of the Sahara.

Sands and dunes have heard me,
As they piled in waves silently,
Filling a dry imaginary trough,
As I walk in this my Kalahari,
My feet sinking and not kicking,
Because the drought has set in,
To write my own Sahara,
Singing its song of excess heat.