In these places where women come to die
My mother’s words take turns to hit my ears:
“When you find a man, carve a home beneath his pride and
learn to make homes from nothing.”
Then I screamed: Mother this is not my home!
This is not a home!
It carries the weight of a man’s pride
the same way corpses carry the weight of tombstones
Mother did not listen.
She too found a home
In these places where nothing remains
but a swarm of men urinating on the flame of our souls
She said: that is how we make homes out of nothing
By carrying the weight of a man’s pride
© Elizabeth Semende