The 6th of July 2011

Dear Reader

This is a piece I wrote two years ago. I came across it while going through my old journals. I got chills reading it thinking I disliked the mentioned person so much.  I decided to share it becuase I have fully forgiven the person. I have moved on and replaced his place in my heart with forgiveness.

It is very close to me, read it with an open heart as I allow you to take a walk in my life.

Lovies
Thandi

                                           ***********************

All these years the guys I have eye'd were attractive.
But those who eye'd me were not my type (well sometimes anyway).
Memories flood back to high school...*sigh*
Fast forward to 2009, the one guy I thought the world of took my invites and trashed my soul.
He saw a deformed self-image and vandalised it even more.
He noticed the spark he put in my life and selfishly destroyed the flames of my soul.
This one bloke I held to the heavens tore my every fibre and buried my worth.
Snatched my innocence with his raw hands and left the days ahead to devour his mess.
Is it going to get worse?
Will there be a total release.
Fed up of once knowing you excited me and with ease made me hate you. Fed up of you.
Sick and tired of your name, face.
Knowing you once even touched me, knew me, spoke to me.
The enemy is having a feast about this.
Aren't you just proud of your well planned trap.
Sick and tired of your sneers.
Cheers that you've crippled me.
I loathe your entry into my life,
The doormat you so fiercly cleaned your shoes on was my heart.
You trampled every bit of it and now it beats fearing your image.
The one guy I fell madly in infatuation with...
Bore me a strong, healthy being called HATE.
It reflected in his eyes every time he looked at me.
Now stains of pain are hard to remove.
Stubborn and destroying what little admiration I can offer.
I want to forgive, a part of me probably has.
Just angry at the damage you left.
Feels like a disability of my soul, the unseen feeding off your seeds of rejection.

Fuelled by Love

Days when shyness pinned us to our own demons.

Seeing our hope listed under the removals, since then a woman has stood the trial.

Grey days were when inferiority packaged our existence, having no alliances.

The wise and old, all races…somehow all dream of a free country…

One embracing our intelligence first, ignoring what’s deemed sultry.

Acknowledge our sweet injection of love into everything we touch.

Giving the unmaterialistic treasures and giving birth to God’s beauty.

Pieces of His Majesty shining in our off-springs.

Grant us…allow us to defeat the injustice and constant beatings.

Give us a chance to not see the green-eyed monster, looking back in our reflection.

Allow us to smile without having a flood of tears drowning our stint of joy.

Allow our voices to drown the critics.

Deafen the whistles gasping at sights of beautiful skin.

We love the sight of harmony.

The feeling of understanding.

So long we’ve waited for complete freedom for the world’s life-bearers.

Warm nurtures, replicas of angels...

Fear the power they possess,

Well mannered and hardly careless.

No perfection but a journey to wholeness.

Greatness is forever in us.

See our worth not from what pleasures you had in mind.

Rather polish our worth with genuine words while appreciating our presence.

Women are sprinkled with only what we know and understand.

Morals, values and good characters.

Lovers of love and abundant givers love.

Foreign Dream

One day that laugh will be my morning melody, blissful and I shall be engulfed in your aura.

Sense unknown, smothered in this pull of humour, a diamond worthless in the eyes of the vain.

Your knowledge I dream to gain.

Days are an enjoyment with your presence in them, blessed to have met a soul so tame.

Ways I’m intrigued by you…limited by names.

Restricted by time, forever cruising in my mind.

What is it called when it’s not an often find?

The wishes and hopes our hearts carry,

Seem too heavy, desires too crazy.

Why have we been created to attract others?

So far from reach yet our imaginations display not typical but extra-ordinary possibilities.

Re-playing the captured smile, plastered on my memory’s walls.

The rush of your words, that’s all I am concerned about.

A harmless sound, the support I get from you has lifted me off the ground.

A re-play of that star lit night, looking on two soulful birds that understand our plight.

A resemble of your ray of immense light.

A rush of feelings I’m unfamiliar with,

But again, pits and rough edges seem to slow my happiness.

Our baggage and their concerns,

Allow love to give us a turn.

-Thandi Xaba

Septemebr 2009

No Name No Face No Identity

I now walk this ground hoping to find your smile,

Walk on it and trample it coz you were quick to crush mine.

I now seek the best from the rest yet you feel aroused not from my soul but big bust.

Find my worth and ability, look past my skew imagery.

Had I spoken out in turn when I stated my yearns, in turn killing my fantasy.

Insane, mad, mental...tags attached to this realities.

How long will we recite when their worlds are cloaked with sin.

Embrace the sights your vision can grasp, for all we are seeing isn't going to last.

Excited by his reciting that easily shapes my thinking so fast.

This soil I walk on penetrates my pores.

Healing my sores, am I a critic for rejecting their blows?

Will I now face punishment for these statements.

My fellow man killed by resentment.

He thought by protesting he would get an applause.

Have my eyes not seen enough...

When enemies claim to have forgotten their fights and fake love.

Soon the war you have with your soul will fade.

Better days to stay,

People helping people, life with no dismay.

Thandi Xaba
April 2008

From the brown bottle.

Dear Reader

 

This poem is very close to my heart. I wrote it in 2008 after meeting a certain person. It is originally very long and I decided to edit out most of it (for personal reasons :) ).

 

Thank you!!

 

Lovies, Thandi

 

                                                  ***********************

 

 

From that brown bottle.

 

It was his grasp on that brown bottle that led him to say I’m beautiful.

 

He claimed to be enticed by my speech,

 

Claims I’m intelligent, cute and not typical.

 

Yet I ask where he is…his hold on that brown bottle,

 

Drove him back to his sanity.

 

He’s awoken and now realises his mistakes on conversing with this plum flabby copy.

 

How taken I was, believing him.

 

His words forming rainbows of hope, wishing things turn out different.

 

Simple for him to step on my terrain,

 

Inflict some pain…yet he holds high his brown bottle and still claims I’m beautiful.

 

Where there any sincere words? The way he held my hand, activities he’s over-used, girls now forget he just doesn’t understand.

 

My importance, your significance.

 

Just because he warmed your skin, rubbing you gently certainly doesn’t mean you are anywhere near his book of greatness.

 

That to him is spreading open and giving him a taste of your pride.

 

A taste and an unpleasant ride.

 

He’d unlock your chambers and take you on a walk of sin.

 

Once his seen your paradise, he’s gotten a bite from your ripe orange, he’ll either reside or seek sweeter oranges.

 

Amazing how he used the best known gestures,

 

Sweet, empty words that seep from his sweet lips.

 

Yet they puncture my ears.

 

And bring to life my buried fears, I can now confess.

 

It’s because of this sort of treatment that has cemented my heart.

 

Preventing me from hearing my soul mate’s knock.

 

So hardened it has become that bottle-holders like him seem to be daily prescription.

 

Appealing addictions which keep luring me back into their ambition.

 

He held high his cigarette.

 

Blowing the smoke out from his sexy lips…I’d fallen deep into his admission.

 

Highly appealing, he’d look deeply into my eyes and fish for my weakness.

 

Hoping I’d lead him to my paradise,

 

Funny enough, I let him look me in the eyes and allowed him to try and find gold.

 

Yes I possess gold.

 

Never seen nor told…

 

It was when he held that brown bottle he claimed I’m special.

 

I seek his warmth now…

 

Missing his prints on my skin though I know many women who carry some awe already have those ‘handsome prints’.

 

Certainly not making me unique or special.

 

You lied yet again.

 

Maybe those are measures you take to feel on top of your game.

 

It was all after you drank the contents of that brown bottle you found me beautiful.

 

Stating you enjoy  my company…little did I know that’s a line that’s escaped your lips more times then your Marlboro smoke.

 

Yet again you’ve successfully left me broke.

 

Have I lost this quest for love?

 

Early to wish for commitment the elders warned us about.

 

Thoughts so divine, that brown bottle introduced me to your beautiful mind,

 

I thank the brown bottle because this being uttered words unfamiliar to my ears.

 

Sad and pathetic as it is…I thank the brown bottle for introducing me to this being who told me I am beautiful.

 

Thandi Xaba

 

7 June 2008