Tonight I will sit outside
as the night recite it’s
poetry to a hushed
world,
I will measure
the passage of time by
the shadow cast by
strangers drowning in
the dark, and our
mistakes by the wounds
on their flesh.

Let’s pretend we are diamond mines where there is
only coal, we are
pretending not to hear
our emptiness howl.

Love, if you are a
teacher, be tender, bend to my elements.

All that my hands know is to write about love and all my
fingertips want is you
to find diamonds in your
backyard. And how I
hope you keep digging
and what a paradox it is how two things so
close can be so far from view.

My eyes will remain closed as African
children strum their
guitar ribs, singing their
final melodies. Then, I
will make an apology or
an excuse, to clear our
conscience and the rope
around our necks. After
this, we’ll always be
cold, no matter how
warm it is, and we’ll be
given the ability to play
connect with the planets.

We of fire, dreaming in
nightmares only,
granted a third, sad
sight.There’s no good
left in this past world,
only the most horrific
future events awaits. We were
so busy skipping
pebbles on river of tears that we unclenched our
fists and lost our black diamond.

# # #

Lebohang Kuenane is a dreamer and a spirit child, a being composed of letters and alphabets. I vow to let these consonants adorn my vowels. An aspiring spiritual entity from Lesotho, a guardian of tribal lore and a traveller.

Photo credit: Kae Sable