It is the pain
we are yet to heal from
which lingers,
finding sanctuary in the chambers of our beating hearts.
It is the feelings
we are yet to uproot
which spread,
piercing the emotional barrier beneath the armour
Of our constricting chests.
It is the words
we left unsaid,
which build up,
forming layers of silence on tongues
bequeathed with salient words.
We now hate the way the warmth of our blanket reminds us
of their hands wrapped around us,
we hate the sound of a neighbour knocking to ask
whether we need salt again.
We hate the way sunsets remind us
of the memory of kisses planted on our lips,
we switch off the radio whenever what used to be our song comes on.
So we let our tears escape the custody of our misty eyes,
perhaps to find fulfilment in the pouring of the midnight rain.
Read – Tree of Ignorance – A Poem by Bokang Moshoeshoe, Lesotho
Published in the November 2021 Edition of the WSA Magazine
