I Am Woman

I stand free
Proud and tall
Don’t try to stop me
My name is
woman

I speak my mind
I speak justice
And peace
I am entrusted with life
I am woman

My voice is heard
Ringing clear
Without a fear
As I take a stand
I am protector
I am woman

Let this bosom
Of the devastated earth
Lay her claim upon the masses
As she shouts
Freedom! Freedom!
Therein I am
My voice, strong and firm

I teach
Equality and peace
I teach
Humility and grace
I teach gentleness
For man’s soul
For I am she
Who stands firm against all odds
I am woman


PoP © Rewritten 8 March 07

Mekatilili!

She stood where others didn’t dare
Hoisted upon a three-legged stool
Head above the crowd, speaking
To women and men,
Speaking about taking back their land
Protecting their kaya*
Speaking about a revolution

Agitating for truth,
For ownership and justice, for freedom
She spoke, reminding them
Of their rights
Telling them to fight
To hold on, to what was theirs

She walked through fire
Cast aside the cloak of fear
She broke the chains of slavery
And stood resolute
Even when they arrested her

I see her braving the elements
Walking in dangerous territory
Breaking the bars of prison
To bring her people to freedom
I see her in every women
Who embraces the revolution

*Kaya are sacred forest shrines and traditional places of worship

PoP (c)6 March 07

The Girl

She stood
by the side of the road.
About six,
though her face was old.
Her tattered blue dress billowed
in the early morning chill.
Time stopped
as our eyes met;
her stare unblinking
seemingly in a daze.
As I drove on
I thought of the streaks
of dry tears on her cheeks,
the deep cracks on her little lips,
yellowing hair on her head
unkempt,
and her thin arms
barely encircling
the baby tied precariously
to her tiny back.

PoP (c) 20 Sep 06

Let's Take Back Our Nights!

Wake up, People!
Let us reclaim our nights,
and repossess our freedom.
Let us take back our God-given right.
Let us recover our town,
and regain our lives.

In our houses barricaded,
Behind deadbolts, keys, a siren, an alarm, thick metal bars
and a wildly beating heart, ‘burglar-proofed’.
While the murderers and thieves cavort freely in the night
we’re locked up in self-made jails!

Our fear holds the gun
our hesitation pulls the trigger
and releases the bullet that maims or kills
our brother or sister.
Let us stop the fear!
Let us take a stand,
and fight to reclaim our land!

PoP (c)12 Dec 05

War Never Ends

Though the guns and bombs
have stopped,
War is in
the smoke that billows
over the countryside.
It lives in the scorched air
of the mountains
where we once played hide
and seek.
It resides
in the rubble in which we find
our loved ones still;
in the glassy eyes
of children
who won’t speak
or close their eyes in sleep.

War lives
in those whose spirits
went with loved ones lost,
whose lives will never again
be the same.
In those who now crawl
where they once walked
and those whose
sight is in the cane
they tightly grip

War continues
for those who cried
so many tears
and died
many deaths.
Those who ask how
to pick up the pieces;
whether it was worth the misses,
where to bury their pain
and if the anger will ever cease.

PoP (c)30 Aug 06

The Crocodile Tear

You sit there, wiping your crocodile tear
from an oily face stuffed with the worker’s sweat
that you snatch year after year.
Greasy fists clutch a big white monogrammed handkerchief
bought specially for such occasions,
meant to attract maximum attention.
I watch and wonder how you stand yourself,
I wonder if you sleep at night, or if you lost the fight a long time ago
to demons that bought and paid for you,
and made you power hungry.

You stand to address the mourning crowd,
and struggle to squeeze another weak tear out.
Pretence of sympathy while shouting aloud,
as you look around the horde;
guilty, but mostly afraid they will lash out.
The masses know you were there, you see,
when your thugs shot that innocent child.
You didn’t stop the shooting, you lout.
Tucked behind beefy bodyguards the workers’ money provides.
You watched the child die like a dog with nowhere to hide.

And now the child you come to put in the ground,
Another innocent life lost to feed your greed,
He bled to death from things he knew nothing about,
Escaping helmeted goons you set loose
Like rabid dogs that kill without thought or mind.

Here you stand, you hooligan.
With a lying heart you pretend to mourn,
while in the same beat you campaign.
And let the people dig their own graves,
Through lying lips your own way you pave,
And tell the seven year old’s parents to be brave.
For when you look around all that you see,
is yet another foolish crowd to deceive.

PoP (c)Nov 8 05

Pray For Us...

As my heart stills
and words run dry
upon my lips.

I ask you to put your hands together
in supplication
let us stand up for each other

Pray for us all
for most watch in silence as our world crumbles
and the bombs continue to rumble.

Pray for the children
whose minds and lives are broken
by war, these cannot be mended.

Pray for the men and women
whose spirits fight for our lives each day
the Karimis, Mekatililis, the Che's.

Those out on the front line
who are not afraid to speak,
who give their time and lives fighting for our freedom.

Pray for the homeless
for luxury is the least of their worry
they have no place to raise their children, or rest their tired bodies.

Pray for those abused,
those ostracised, and stigmatized
whose lives have been used and trashed.

Pray for the underpaid
whose efforts, each day to make ends meet
are efforts dead

And the poor and sick
whose choices are nil,
if they seek treatment, they can’t afford a meal.

Please pray for us,
for courage and strength.
Pray that we may rise
in solidarity to seek
oppression’s sweet demise.

PoP (c) 1 March 07

Where Do I Find Love?

Love can only love.
She will not hold onto
or cling on
when love’s not reciprocal.

She will glide off
places that are not
her like.
She will attract
her kind,
and reduce her glow
when shunned.
Pride and anger
will be eaten up
or left alone
as they attempt
to outshine her.

She waits
patiently
until she’s stoked
and gently kindled
in your soul.
Then she comes out
in graceful beauty;
her full glory
shining upon your spirit,
gentle upon your heart.

Only then will you
find her,
in her purest form;
first in yourself
then in another.
Love does not
take any other form.
Love can only be love.

PoP (c)1 Mar 07

Death Of Innocence

He lured me
ever so gently,
strumming the strings of all that pained me,
whispering things my young brain did not understand.
Generous promises made by his hovering hand.

He lured me,
pursued me so desperately.
On my walk home, he by my side
carrying my school bag, holding my hand.
He spoke so honestly.
To my 15 year old ears,
his words were so comforting

He played with me.
Played with all the words I spoke
about my family’s poverty and insecurity.
He gave me shoes to cover my calloused feet.
He bought me all the soda I wanted,
provided me with sweets and bread,
luxuries my home had never seen

His words sounded like music
rising to sweet crescendo.
I was led like a sheep by innocent emotion.
I was high on the notion of love,
intoxicated by his lies.
So wrapped up in his words,
I let go completely.

Now I walk alone.
Friends I shunned are gone.
I search for his face in many places
though in my heart I know he’s long gone.
I still hear his voice,
his empty words,
his sugar coated promises.
My body craves the things he gave.
My heart is angry and broken.
As the child he left in me turns,
I wish I were in my grave.

PoP 27 Feb 07

I Will Rise!

How can I do it,
I ask myself.
How can I save my country from herself?
Save my children’s future?
Save them from poverty and nakedness?

How can I stop this stealing,
this relentless dipping of greedy fingers
into the pot that’s almost empty?
How can I keep my country’s dignity?

I have to fight the devil that says there’s nothing I can do.
I have to hold him by the throat and slay him as only I can do.
I have to learn that these are not people like me.
I have to stand firm and not let them drive me to my knees.

I will start by talking to one, two or three
of those close and not so close to me.
I will organize and prioritize the fight for my country.
I will do it so that we can all be free.

I will fight against all injustice.
I will stand up with the masses.
I will teach the children, and educate the adults.
I will not leave my country to the mercy of others.

I will speak at every opportunity,
for silence will always be my number one enemy.
I will rise, steadfast to what is true
even if I have to give my life to see it through.

PoP (c)27 Feb 07

A Candle Does Not Lose Its Flame…

Fellow woman,
look at yourself.
Not your children
or your husband;
not at your lack of abundance
or circumstance.
Stand in front of the mirror,
look into the eyes looking back.
Take a good look at you.

Look at your fellow woman.
Feel her, her joys and pain.
Close your eyes and breathe her.
Her perfumed presence in the boardroom,
by the lake as she does her wash,
as she moulds futures in the classroom.
Walk in her shoes.
Look at her in the mirror.
Be her.

Lift her up, fellow woman
Lift her on high
For in her poverty is her strength,
in her fear, her greatest triumph;
in her misfortune, her determination.
For when she faces the odds,
her strength comes to maturation
and she takes another hopeless day
and holds it close to her breast

Lift her up!
Lift up that woman in the mirror
Yes, that woman in the street,
in politics, in the slum.
Like the rain sustains life,
her blood births
and nurtures.
Remember, fellow woman
one candle does not lose its flame
when it lights another candle

PoP © 23 Feb 07

Let Me Be

I’m sad
Not a tad
But full fledged,
Joy absorbing sad
With a tear filled heart
Trudging through sludge

All of me hurts
From my feet to my hands
My heart has burst
Spewed out all joy
And left room for a sad
I can’t turn out

This sad has filled all crevices
It’s in my veins
Has crept deep into my brain
It’s snatched away sleep
Where I thought I’d lay
My worn-out head

PoP© 23 Feb 07

Rescue Me!

The pull of her is her allure
The scent of her lingers
Everywhere I go
I see her smile in the woman
By the corner
In the eyes of a friend
In the voice of a passerby

No matter where I go
My heart won’t leave her alone
I’ve found other loves
Moved from her town
I’ve done all the things
I know she frowns upon
My heart won’t let her go

I discovered it’s a war
ferociously fought
but lost long ago
So to her I go
False bravado gone
Face on the floor
Shoulders bent
Sorry and ashamed
For my heart won’t let her go

PoP 24 Feb 07

We Will Not Die Like Dogs

We will not die like dogs!
We won’t wait to be crushed, hunted, torn
In a fiery home that’s cold as stone,
We won’t stay silent, powerless, and impotent.

In morning’s dawn turned darkest night
when friend and foe alike take flight,
take food from the mouth of a babe who knows naught.
We will not lizard-like lie
watching, waiting, wondering who
will lead us on this journey home.

We vow to peel that darkness back,
to wrench the light away from it.
We swear we won’t accept the task
that lazes, watches, muses, slacks,
then faces sleepless, cold, hungry nights
in stuffy, musty, murky little spaces.
Because we’re too afraid to seek our rights.

We Refuse!
Refuse, to die like dogs!!
We will die fighting, go in war,
We’ll accomplish all we stand for,
No more will we watch hungry men fall,
Put a noose around their necks,
We’ll cry, try, and die for change.

We will!
We’ll break the chain,
That binds the neck of an innocent child,
We will cry tears of blood, on our knees we will still walk,
We will not hear the guns; our heads we will refuse to turn,
Our feet will not run,
We will die for our land,
We will not die like dogs.

PoP (c) Oct 05

Peals Of Children's Laughter

the scent of intense poverty
and desperation hangs in the air
in the plastic city within a city
where all are equal but nothing’s fair

yesterday’s rummaged crumbs
grace and adorn tables today
hands reach out,
hungry fingers hurriedly licked clean
as sirens sound outside the cardboard maze
hunting fugitives slipped away

worst are the long nights
when plastic walls are thinnest,
tossing, twisting on sisal mats,
before turning out tin lights
as covert pillow talk, laughter and muffled love cries
are dumped on the wrong side of the plastic
and you’re a superfluous fly
in your neighbour’s business.

in the day,
sweet songs of lore, sound heavenly
from lips of barefoot children playing in the dust
innocent crystal laughter peals clearly
lightens the day for those whose hopes are dying




Dedicated to those who survive each day without the gifts that we take for granted

PoP (c) Dec 05