Words
Words do not build,
do not break,
do not anger,
words do not love (people love),
words do not betray,
do not kill.
Words cannot forget,
words cannot betray us,
Or mask us,
or hide us from ourselves,
and without arms, words do not protect,
do not agree
and being just words, they do not shoot.
I hate words
They are words of truth,
they are not the truth,
they are not even lies.
They are just words.
Cetshwayo was not a man of words,
nor was Makhado,
Moshoeshoe could not even speak.
And yet it was words that forgave the pain of an infant not yet born,
It was words that married Azania with looters in community of no property.
eintlek wena umuphi?
uwulo welini edablapha ekhanda or uyilo osmila ngamashirt atatazelayo
eBuckingham palace?
othandwa iEconomy ephethwe amagxaxga,
uthandwa amaborn free into poverty,
uthandwa ondlebe zikhanyi igazi leAfrica,
uxolele iside lakho mina angikaxoli ngisayibambe daar eyasemandulo
ngeke ngilale nesitha endilini.
angeke ngihleke nesettler liphethe ukungokwami,
angixoleli abantu abangaxolisanga angihlanyi,
anginandaba nepeace, ipeace ayilayti ugesi, ugesi ulaytwa iEskom,
angindaba nefood security ngilambe kumanje.
uSiya Kolisi ngiyamfayva mara I cannot spring a bok!
I cannot die inside a square!
I cannot a kiss a boer
or toi toi and dance to the same song,
I don’t want to shosholoza anymore
or constitutionally prostitute my birth right for fong-kong rainbows with no white,
(just wilting black rays across a sky of stolen treasures).
I do not want to black blood based empowerment anymore, I do not want to tender ….
or to bleed on behalf of thieves.
to Rupert over stab wounds,
dig treasures while singing your song of a piece of poverty amidst a rhythm of
Marikana bullets dancing inside my skull in a movie about a country build on magic.
I do not want to white anymore!
I do not want to rainbow without bread.
I do not want to hate Cecil and anthem with his children,
to shoot Hofmeyr and dance to Micasa,
to burn sparrows and mourn the death of cleggs,
to hate Eugene and thank Slovo.
to joke and beg,
to smile at my killer,
to forgive while bleeding,
To reconcile from inside Middleburg coffins,
to job for your song,
to slave for your legacy!
your shirt!
your dance!
Your globe-capturing smile!
your promise!
Your Madiba magic, I have buried with the bones of my brothers in shallows graves
under the sweltering heat of the southern Marikana sky because words do not break chains.
I do not want to south Africa anymore, I want to Azania.
Azania of no words,
of rebirth,
Unlearning white poison,
Colonial demons drowning in the Atlantic,
Azania of exploding colonial bondages,
of no prayer,
of no fists in the air anymore,
of beaming black bullets,
beautiful and borderless!
*Catch Makhafula Vilakazi Live This Sunday at 13h00 SAT on Makhafula Vilakazi Poetry Facebook Page: Makhafula Vilakazi
