10 minutes

It’s a matter of making the time; as little as 10 minutes a day will get me there. Time to edit. Time to get my first poetry book published. 10 minutes folks. What am I waiting for?

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2017.

Lighthouse Cafe

Ah when you sat on my lap
To fetch your feminine grace
Breathless with unburden
How human you could be

Coffee and desperation
Kept our tender resentment
Quiet doubt in each cup of
Tell him that you love him

Mortified by your dreams
I would not believe in you
Not the walls nor the chairs
Could still my chambers

Quivering beneath you
Deciding how to lose you
Looking always for him
But not in a physical form

Lead me not into temptation
Tell him that you love him
Your first and last breath
Betrayal has to smell this

Immigrant song of love
Across the Indian Oceans
When did the levee break
Long before I loved you.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 30 April 2014

After

Everything that was never promised
Eventually arrived as hollow as grief
Some things do not fall under justice
Most things are meant to be set free.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

Deep light

Quietly after summer upon my body
Is she changing her colours again
Will we understand love before we make it
Will we honour the answers at this depth
Do we know what poverty is
Are we awake.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

 

Joy

I hear the church bells ringing
And the birds take flight into the cold spring skies
And of all the things that I wish to do
I want to know what it is like to soar with you
Through the mundane things of this world

Because masturbation is not love
Pornography is not love
Equality is not love

Love is free from our imagination
As free as the rain that falls from the heavens
Mountains valleys oceans alleys
She can not be rented nor invented nor paused

So forget about yesterday and tell me about now
What brings you pure joy
Love.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

 

Call my ugly

Call each and every ugly part of me
Until there is none left for me to cling to
Until they are no longer mine to carry
Free to be of what I am made.

I dedicate this poem to those who have called my ugly; and in so doing have awakened me to my humility; my true calling. From the time that we are born our lives are abundant with gifts. Let us not allow others to misname them. Our work is to learn to be thankful for each one.

Namaste.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

 

How to remove the dread from the locks.

How will we remove the dread from the locks? Well, by becoming aware of the fact that whoever named our locks was afraid of the unknown. Distrusted himself and others. I too used to dread the dreadlock until I let my locks, my hair grow out on its own. So that I can let you know that I too am love. Be gentle with yourself. There is courage and freedom and inner peace to be gained from this.

Dreadlocking

Forests of dark coily hair jerseyed
Into the fabric of my immigrant life
Understanding what is my ground
Something that’s not yours to name.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

“Be careful of your thoughts, for your thoughts become your words. Be careful of your words, for your words become your actions. Be careful of your actions, for your actions become your habits. Be careful of your habits, for your habits become your character. Be careful of your character, for your character becomes your destiny.” Ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu.