Land of my Forefathers - Mathalea Ntaote

High in the bosom of snow-crowned mountains,
Where winds sing hymns only peaks know,
The valleys hold whispers of cattle bells,
Silent vow-taking spirits linger where my forefather’s graves lay.

When time holds its breath - Mathalea Ntaote

From yester ashes, tomorrow blooms in a single breath
Time is a river, unyielding and wide,
A winding path that swallows the goal

Free from bondage - Bahlakoana Mothobi

They came with chains, with iron and lies,
Their greed reflected in hollow eyes.
The ocean roared, the ships stood tall,
Yet sorrow wailed above them all.

Memory - Tumello Motabola

The difference between a mountain and a ridge is in the way our bodies can sometimes press at night, the loneliness of the Caprivi

stretched in front of us like a sterile thumb. When we ran out of words,

choosing to communicate with memory, renaming every part of this town.

Yellow One - Thomas Mofolo

Yellow one from the house of Mothebele, rise,

Yellow One, mighty faun giant,

Remembering - Tumello Motabola

We were often taken at times by the light breaking in the window,

pilfering brilliant holes within our bodies like cinema sunsets.

The curse of being black with no direction - Sibusiso Adontsi

The curse of being black with no direction, 

lost with no resurrection, 

hopes of a future blurry, 

lost and it’s looking scary.

Sleep blues - Rethabile Masilo

Sleep blues
As I was sitting here
the roof fell in, a cat
jumped out of me

Drowning - Tsebo Makakole

Scared and frustrated,
Ke tšohile batsoali,¹
What are they going to say,
When I tell them?
My wallet all wet,
Containing my money
And my bank account cards.

People in tall buildings - Rethabile Masilo

You see those people in the tall buildings, at their windows,
looking at a sky between whose seams a swallow with her beak
sews patches of blue into place?

The crocodile - Shika Kgomedi Lekgothoane

The crocodile is the invoker of the rain waters,
The black one of the pool,
The black black one lying on the water slime;

Mankokosane - Hale Tsehlana

Mankokosane¹, pula e ea na
re tla hola neng? ha tsatsi le chaba²

Grape Vine - Hale Tsehlana

I heard from the grapevine
that your mother is a witch.
they say this was not a natural death
This man was bewitched.