Xolani Majola Poems

The fields look greener on the other side of time,
While others harvest gold, I'm learning how to sow.
Each step I take ahead births four I leave behind,
Yet something in my chest refuses to let go.
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Life is a river that does not ask permission to flow,
One breath you are the sun; the next, buried below.
She laughs like a mother, then turns like a blade,
And the brightest of mornings can birth the darkest of shade.
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Nobody warns you how quiet it gets before the mouth opens.

By nine, the corner boys already know your name, know which house you sleep in, which taxi you take to school, and they wait there anyway, plastic bags of white passed hand to hand like communion nobody asked to take. Down the road a girl who used to skip rope is stroking a stomach she didn't choose, and everyone calls it grown-up like it's a compliment.
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