Yolanda Mbatha Biography

My DNA dates back to the trees that planted
My identity.
Soils creep up to distress how the hairs on my head were made.
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Because i anwser to our children when you're nowhere to be found,
because i provide food with the scraps i was given;
I AM A WOMAN.
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As the darkness settles in and lights go out
As the city goes to sleep and the owls see light
I cradle my bundle of joy close to my heart
I am awakened by the smell of impurity both inside and out
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A walk down memory lane leads to screams of agony as I forcefully commemorate past tragedies. Life as a teen could be more difficult- that I know- but it could also be much easier...

The walls of my mind are engraved with the terror that is visible in my eyes, visible in my heart, yet hidden in my words, hidden in my stride- none attempts to look beyond what your tender eye wishes to see...
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censured for actions I was pressured into taking,
blamed for words erudite practitioners said to me...
labelled a murderer...
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