My spirit burst into a dance.
I did not forget my spear, sharpened on the rocky violence of Winterveld,
Held low,
A machete used in shambas is clung to my waist
It is on this ships pass horizon
A jicksaw
Life seemingly on a doze
That my spirit burst into perceiving
The twinkles of the black sky
sat with Yemaya
Not a rape victim
Not a fearful,
called upon all the women in me
The courageous Goatherds
The divine healers
The fearless matriarchs who waged silent wars, survived lightning strikes, fought and killed snakes of the jungles
The barefooted who danced with the gods
The free women with unstrapped dangling breasts
We danced for all the paths crossed
We danced to the full moonlight until we were ready to set forth again…
Christinah Chauke has loved stories since childhood and first engaged literature from her grandmother’s novels. She was born in Winterveld, in the far north of Pretoria, South Africa. She studied international communications and psychological counselling. Her passion for social justice and mental health awareness inspires her writing. She is a humanitarian who actively advocates for equality, sustainability and biodiversity conservation. She writes poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction. You can find her on instagram and facebook.
the Decolonial Passage 