Trailer from a Woman Once a Girl - Breaking Silence

My suppressed anger turned poetic

My mother always wanted issues she considered domestic to remain locked in the heart and house. As a child, my mouth knew her index finger more than anything else. She always placed it tight against my mouth when I tried to voice out on abuse she was going through. My first poem was suppressed.

However, I did some routine, rhythmic chants like shouts when I went out to sell on the streets. I recited the same words every day. These became a poor girl`s  song. Early days of my life were marked by suppression of my voice.

Anger made me a poet

The first ever poem
Recited on the streets
Child vendor then I was
Same Song of vendors
With poetic shout turned rhythm
Muriwo, maTomatoes, onions
Poetic sounds of poverty
Running wild and wider
Reciting poetic possibilities
Capabilities and opportunities

The first ever poem of a mother who feared breaking silence
Was just a shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Right index finger tight on two lips
Till it all went pewwwwwwwwwwww
Silent sound of fear and fury
Heartache storm that strokes
Sharp inner lightning that burns
Inner poetry never recited

Now gone past poetic shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Now SHE hero of shouts
When it hurts my heart
I find poetry soothing
Then I feel a sharpest phew
A release and a relief
I let go anger
It mocks and mops
I let go tears and they are wiped away
When I feel disappointed I use poetry to reappoint
I rejoin poetically

Each time I mourned a girl in death
I looked for words that healed me first
When I do activism
I meet the bruises and pains
Price an activist pays
I get kicked out
With my poems I kick back in
Its kick back out
And kick back in
They push me out
My poetry pushes me back in
That's the game of a survivor turned leader
Mobilising with poetic words
Teaming up with positive poetry

One you read of a girl with tattered genital organs
That's exactly me when a girl
I rejoined through her story
My whole life has been of fixing and forging
For lives of girls I support
Had to make political statements
Though not a politician they sounded poetically political

I find poetic words easy
To one who wasted time and anything
I threw poetry in their face
You may not be me
But this my poetry pricks and pokes
Poses with pointers
Paraphrased and paragraphed
Parts and pieces

Here then is poetry for passion
Poetry to make and not break
Poetry to touch and not torture
Poetry I breathe and bring
Poetry I play and party
Poetry I pass on
Poetry I put right here

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