Trying to make sense of madness only defines that its madness.
Once I looked upon myself with wondering eyes when a quick step forward defined the stillness of my spaces.
All things to me are defined by song; each with a melody that drapes solemn fears and a smile that becomes a glossy veneer to pain. To deny the pain would be to shy away from the fundamentals of today.
This day, like yesterday hope came and went away, untouched it came again and listened to me say I know and understand why it comes and goes away and yet for nothing it seems to stand…because too little assumes an established stance of sense.
When I couldn’t see forward; opened my eyes blinded by waters and could barely save my self from death by drowning; my face unavoidable, drenched in my own tears, without belittling that pain, it broke into song. Sing rain…silence my sobs. Flood rivers for the sooner I decide to swim I’ll give my tears as tributaries, subsiding ripples itching for turbulance from within…within me, and now me within waters that hide eyes that need.
Sing rain, mystify more than just peaking mountains, expose me to your awe. Hunger rambling in your skies, only to feed me the pleasure of nature’s tears in silencing bounty… Your hurt is more than mine so my pain subsides as your light shines your face even in night; your cry then heard. My anger cannot match your pain, I took in the sound when you clearly cried and broke into song. Yours so melancholy said to shed not too many tears. And there my peace was when the rain that cried harder and louder than I outshined my pain.
Understand, see, I’ve untold myself the obscured truth of my unacceptability to lie with sorrow!
See, I can weep and cry
But understand, man, at your hands I can’t die.
By Thato Chobokoane
Stop Violence Against Women