WE ALL HAVE SCARS

Scars are part of living. We all have them.

We don’t get scared because we’re reckless or stupid but because we dare to open ourselves up to life’s experiences.  

Some people hide their scars in pretence. They get so deeply consumed in convincing everyone that they’re flawless by trying too hard and working too hard. In turn they lose the very essence of who they are and fail to attract and maintain what is genuine into their lives. They create hollow spaces within themselves that can’t hold what is true.

Some people willow in the pain of their fall and fail to realise even when that pain is gone. They remain wounded in their minds and fear pain forever; losing sight of what waits beyond the hurt.

Yet scars can be beautiful.

My favourite scars are the ones that tell stories of boldness and adventure. These stories bear folds of wisdom that can be shared with those who haven’t walked the same path.  They help us realise just how far we’ve come and how much we’ve grown. They help us laugh at our mishaps and forgive ourselves and others. When we tell our stories, we flaunt our scars as stamps of victory.

Self-acceptance has been one of my greatest achievements in life so far.

– Zothile

JUST LET ME BE

Societal expectations are exactly that, expectations belonging to a society. Who is society anyway? I may share geographical territory with many but I have my own individual social, religious, cultural and political views.

Sure, I treasure my culture and it moulds some of my views but it doesn't entirely define who I am.

My religious beliefs guide many of my actions... or let me rephrase... “safeguard” many of my actions but should neither be a tool to measure me against your hierarchy of morality nor be the basis of your judgement.

I have the right to join and support my preferred movement. Don’t feed me your political ideologies. I respect your views and would appreciate it if you reciprocate.

You don't have the right to police my standards. I set my own bar. Your priorities cannot be matched against mine because I have a unique purpose in this mysterious journey. You have yours too. 

Please don’t force me into a structure or institution or label me as a particular category. I’m my own class and I’ll write my own blueprint.

What I mean to say is that please don’t judge my ways. Keep your priorities and norms to yourself. I’m just an individual with an independent mind, a free spirit seeking true freedom. Let me decide what’s best for me. Please just let me be ME! 

God is no doubt a fair and generous man. He gave everyone the same number of hours in a day and left it entirely to each individual to decide how to utilise them. Variance in results is outstanding.

What have you done with your time today?

- Zothile 

Catching a midnight train

I came across this poem that I wrote a few years ago while going through metamorphosis and decided to share it with you:

I’m packing my bags for a midnight runaway train

Better vacate this box in the night

Avoid stares of inquisitive acquaintances

I’m trading my shame of hopeless eviction

Gotta get out of these empty promises

Spring clean illusions disguised in hope

Unchain my thoughts and fly free

Freedom train is calling

Howling for my reasoning

Gotta break away

Can’t find comfort in these shackles

Key is in my locket chain close to my heart

Can’t stand the pain of this bondage

It’s been too long

I’m turning off the blues of uneasy comfort

Been trying to fix this house for too long

Better hurry before it’s too late

Midnight freedom train is howling

And beautiful dawn awaits me on the other side

COME WITH ME, MY BELOVED

On Valentine's Day I attended a Sisterhood event with the theme “Come with me, My Beloved”, which is extracted from this biblical scripture in Songs of Solomon:

My beloved spoke and said to me,

“Arise, my darling,

my beautiful one, come with me.

See! The winter is past;

the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;

the season of singing has come,

the cooing of doves

is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit;

the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

Arise, come, my darling;

my beautiful one, come with me.”

What a beautiful invitation to a new season! I then did some more reading of my own and was attracted to this:

How beautiful you are, my darling!
    Oh, how beautiful!
    Your eyes behind your veil are doves.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
    descending from the hills of Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn,
    coming up from the washing.
Each has its twin;
    not one of them is alone.
Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon;
    your mouth is lovely.
Your temples behind your veil
    are like the halves of a pomegranate.
Your breasts are like two fawns,
    like twin fawns of a gazelle
    that browse among the lilies.
Until the day breaks
    and the shadows flee,
I will go to the mountain of myrrh
    and to the hill of incense.
You are altogether beautiful, my darling;
    there is no flaw in you.

If this isn't romantic poetry, I don’t know what is.