Written by Siphamandla Christabell Lukozi

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…If this were how I am to be remembered than I would rather not be known…

Those monstrous cities slept as I wept. Caught in the world of the monstrosity of my capsized soul I began to understand. The ash of my skin covered up by the colour that defined me, I am still the brown girl from the belly of a body parallel to the ocean. With an ascent rich from the English alphabet that caught me in a circumstance of having to explain to my own language why I sounded so foreign from it. Yet you could never miss the strength in my name.

Brown on the outside white in the inside, I thought coconuts were suppose to grow from tree’s well they said I began to resemble a fruit when the English taught me how to read. This little lamb would one day stand out. If this were how I am to be remembered than I would rather not be known. Scattered soul my roots could never abandon me. Planet. World. Oh what a ruinous heart I get so lost but I am still what tribalism preached. Beautiful ruin. I am here. I have been brought to my knees my forefathers still recognise me. With all the poetry in the world I am yet to recite. I have sprung. The streets of Soweto have trembled, bloody feet hitting against the tar, hearts full of hatred. These were matters of the world. Prisoners’ chains hugging their beliefs this was before my time, but I am still the brown girl building a glasshouse from all this history. Could I have you recite me? Time has never lied placing my spirit before that mirror in preparation of this life I felt such a rookie of. Though one thing it has taught me is not to live to fit it.

Photo from series Family of Miners, 1981-1990, Cuba


By Siphamandla Christabell Lukozi
cristabellWriters Soul.
Born in the year 1996
I began my relationship with poetry at the age of 14,Cupid had me good we’ve been together ever since!
Passionate and Ambitious. I am still becoming a better self…
Prayer carries me.
An average human being really!

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