She was a drum that endured various pulsating hands.
Some pulsating with woe and some pulsating with Idyll.
The drum that produced her face in its numb climax
was not recited by will but by fundamental harmony of the mind.
Her kind was one of the miraculous phenomena.
**
Her destined limit had fumes that manifested as her body
which is in a gaseous form.
In all the encounters she transforms
to suit her adaptations and live up to her pleasures.
After so much versatility she is still doubted.
**
Source
That is because the impeders and oppressors know that
her glow of existence was not begotten by man,
but she was and still is "God's Seal".
Her diversity surpasses my hair follicles and cells combined.
Her flash is perpetual, because her shell is as strong
as that of no other.
**
The more oppressed she is the more her assertiveness swells
to uplifting and exuberant songs that continue to be sung,
even if tongues get consumed by its words.
Even if her countenance gets overshadowed by floods.
She continues to blossom and sprout like buds,
regardless of the season.
**
Source
Dynamic or monotonous,
Titanic stars have their name as their scars.
She is the mother of time
and she shall habitate for as long the mute shall mime.
Until the owl becomes diurnal,
until the moon shall meet the sun.
**
Yes she shall live long,
longer than the end of the inception.
Empresses shall be born,
hearts shall be torn.
Rules, myths and bodies shall be worn.
And in all cases she will be present and but throw
a long gaze, like tresses.
**
Masses shall forever be her captives.
With the beauty that lies in her name,
tears filling every inmates eyes with shame,
ruined, destroyed but still strong, and exulted all the same.
Whether her yolk is hard, soft, hot or cold
in her arms is where I belong.
**
Source
©Vincent Mbatha (
