I know


I know you’re going to want to see this letter
Wishing for comfort
Feeling misunderstood
Feeling confused because they said they love you
Feeling used
Feeling like you have everything to say
but no one has asked you,
Or you’ve run out of people to tell,
Or people to call,
Or people to take calls from…

I know you’re going to come out of this
And go into it again
And ask yourself
If you are,
And who you are,
And how you came to be
And what it all means…

I know it feels like
They all eventually leave
(Keep a door open)
I know you have to get up
And sit down without
Witnesses and enquiry

I know you look for affection
I know it feels unfair

I know you’re looking for this letter

Well then write to yourself
Write for yourself
And find out you’re enough just the way you are
And soon,
To your pain,
They’ll come back,
And you’ll wonder why they do this all the time

You stay
Let them be as they may.

I know what you want to hear
You go too long a time without the words
You go too long a time not saying them
(Who would you say them to? Would they be worth the yolk?)
I know you wish the one phone call
Would come and never cease coming

I know

And while its not, and the hours go by
And so does your life
And you ask yourself your value and your position
And your relevance and your worth
And a new haircut and polished shoes
And a new week by the sound of the alarm
But the words or the phone call
Or the misery or the doubt
Or the consequent self-loathing that go along with it

I know.

There are no answers but to answer yourself
I would rather you run without looking back
To a place of fresh start but you’ll always be running
I’d rather you beg but you’ll always be begging
I’d rather you end it all but it will always be over

I know you’re stuck in-between,
encrusted and enveloped,
Wrapped tight and chained
And when you say “help” they ask “come again?”

Its funny

But I know if you overcome and survive
You’ll not only live but you’ll know what its like to be alive.

– Thibedi Mokgokong | 2015

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She’s of Many Colours

girl-doing-makeup-in-mirror2It goes up in white clouds
Grouped individual but one
Every pat-pat against the face
Blows as powder
And shows as flower

She winces when it blows her
Its function is to hold her
When in public from the unknowing
Who would otherwise console her

She dabs down on brown
And slides it over evenly
There are grooves and bumps
She smoothes per touch
Careful, as she whimpers out ‘ouch’

She traces her eyes with black ink
Her lips were more to her skin
Now they part ways
Covered in red paste
Her brown locks recovered with a pin

She’s of many colours
That she masks with great skill
And though she mainly covers
In her eyes the pain still

She may tweek her cheeks
to a rosy blush
Veiling any streaks
with a cosy hush
No one could ever see
So they could never ask
Thus hiding any speak
of an unholy touch

That touch had her to the floor,
And to crimson knees
Defensive arms crossed
Begging for reprieve
Her crime she knew not
Her love as true as God
But she couldn’t understand
Why his eyes were green…

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Too Late

Alas I’m here but you…
You fingertip out of my arm’s reach
I try and speak but
My voice too weak
Against the protest of the tick-tock’s

You stand apart from I
Too distant to hear my defeated sigh
But we’re close enough that
For whatever wind that throws me,
Frisks you the same
When corners of my shirt
Mexican-wave that way,
Loose strands of your hair
Sway in the same

You stand grand and statuesque
As your lips won’t part
You stare from a distance
Saying please don’t touch

My threshold for your beauty won’t hold So I deviate my eyes
And leave my lies untold
My eyes shut as you prove
Too much de-light for sight
Greedy I am too
So before the click of my eyelids
Freezes a still image of you,
I take in the final droplets
From your beauty’s faucet

As I dip my head in painful denial…

My mind’s focus captures you
While my memory’s film replays,
A hint of that steel innocence and youth Coupled with the respect you weigh
In your attitude and name

So now my saturated lens
Let’s a drop in disbelief
But none in much relief
Just one that wets the lashes
And dashes till my truant feet

I’ve just missed you
As swiftly as an Autumn’s leaf
Taken by Summer’s final whisper
The truth in my one tear is sweet,
You tell me,
But won’t turn your disappointment’s
Brown into a second-chance Green.

– 2014

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