Women's month

like many before,

calls us to remember

all women.

Boldly carrying communities

inherited from their mothers.

Air thick and full of chanting and ululation awaiting protests,

raising of banners to mark our survival.

Our wails are dismissed with silence

empty words

and more unfulfilled promises…

This Women's Month,

even if only for a month

I yearn for women to exist without the fear of night or whoever prowls in it.

Permission to lose heart, and grind teeth, curse wile words.

Permission to bark and growl at men who infringe on sacred spaces,

and linger a little longer than allowed.

For streets and alleyways to be empty of scarlet blood

empty of disembowelled and unclothed bodies.

Permission for young girls to not be “imbokodo" just yet,

for women to hold space in their homes

and not be hung from

trees.

Permission to not bear all the sins of the world on

worn-out shoulders.

- Permission to be