South African Black Women, A Poem for You

I keep a million little hearts for you - Black man;

Forever condemned to navigate cotton floors with wooden boots.

I watched the cloud you fell through,

And extended my dress

intending to catch you.

I was soundless at your nails in my arms,

As you stumbled to form a statue.

My dress is now torn into pieces resembling you,

Satin fabric stained by your foot.

I did not mind the brown washed mark,

You know I could do all things for you.

Yet you could watch Zenani be raped,

You could make Tumelo run away,

You could kill our mother's faith;

ignoring every swollen blue face.

Maybe next time you fall through the clouds,

I will watch without a sound,

and hope you are met with a toothless shark.

We are dying,

You see it too.

Yet you stroll over our bodies,

imagining our tufts of hair

to be patches of grass.