I Am She
She is not your one in a million type of lady.
She is a once in a lifetime type of woman.
Worth far more than all the minerals of Africa combined.
She is a woman of substance.
Her value is not dependent on her physical beauty but on the sacrifices that she makes for her people.
For she knows that they birth victories none can control.
Because her womb holds the key to life.
The key to mankind.
She is not bound to the culture of silence that is expected of the African woman but instead, she creates the exception of intelligence, power and excellence.
Sending shock waves of fear to all those who stand in her way.
She is now a perpetual fountain that we drink from.
Bow down and be filled with knowledge, wisdom and truth.
The African woman.
She does not seek affirmation because by ancestry she was born to rule.
Born to lead, being guided by the hand of the Almighty and the spirit of her ancestors.
She no longer capitulates to subordination but she now rises up with indignation against injustice and oppression.
She, she bears the strips of revolution on her back, so we can be scarred with freedom.
So every time we look at the marks we remember that our emancipation comes from the sacrifices of a woman, a Queen.
She is not your one in a million type of lady.
She is a once in a lifetime type of woman.
Thank you.
I Refuse To Be Her
That will never be introduced to the people in your life.
And I was a special offer which you discarded once the deal was done.
I refuse to be her.
But you gave me airtime at my peak time when I chose love at the wrong time with you.
I refuse to be her, the home wrecker, the liar, the sideline hoe, the topic to start conversation, ‘Oh did you hear what she did ?
I can’t believe her’.
They didn’t know me and they certainly did not know you.
Because if they did, they would know that I was the one who you ran in your moment of fear.
I was even the one who you spoke to about your choice in career.
I was the one who held your dreams and treasured them so dear.
But I was not her.
I would never be her.
She was the apple in your eye and I soon became the thorn in your side when you realized that this affair had served its time, because when you first met me you perceive me as a damsel in distress and you wanted to play one knight in shining armor.
But you see my name wasn’t sleeping beauty so you couldn’t kiss me awake from this dream because it was a reality.
And not like the movies where you could play my action hero because once you realized that this was not a script but the story of my life, it was too late because neither of us could say cut, yet you still expect me to live up to all your twisted fantasy.
She was your lady in the street and I was your freak in the sheet.
But what do I, what do I look like, a pornstar?
No I will not swallow, my words when it comes to telling you. When it comes to telling you just how much I feel.
I refuse to be her.
The way you touched me took a very breath from me.
The beats of your heart was the reason for my fidelity, but you were never mine.
So this was never meant to be.
Yet my vulnerability to you led me on a path of adultery.
I try to find remnants of your love on a pile of used tissues on my bedroom floor because you owned the taste that soaked them and for months I slept on black bedsheets to blend in my mascara as my tears stained them because of your excuses.
But there used to be a time when my tears would stain the sheets because your touch made you feel exclusive.
You promised me a love.
But in the same breath you said in the name of true religion, her you could never leave.
Yet you always found yourself in my jeans.
You bought me all the latest designer just to keep me at peace.
But what I failed to realize was that even the devil wears prada.
I was spiritually married to you.
Walked down the aisle behind a veil of perception, couldn’t see clearly ’cause you filled me with deception.
Polluted my mind with your bitter sweet lies but a lie told often enough is believed as truth right?
Wrong.
And soul ties as consequence.
So now I’m stuck here in this hell of misery because my heart you deceived and in me you conceived the fruit of illegitimacy.
Something that she couldn’t even give you exclusively.
I know you’re making excuses and I need to decide whether to let the world see that the fruit inside is becoming ripe or to pluck it out before it’s time.
Now I’m stuck in this cycle of heartache and pain but I’ve got a choice to make.
To give life or to take life for the sake of love.
I said I’m stuck here in this cycle of heartache and pain because I’ve got a choice to make.
To give life or to take life for the sake of love.
But whose love will it be?
Mine, his or hers?
The Dream Nation Showcase
The following from the Dream Nation Creative showcase. A night of creativity, music and poetry designed to touch your heart and leave you motivated and inspired on your personal development journey.
