tapiwa mugabe




(via nayyirahwaheed)

so excited about having a co-release date with the incredible yrsa daley ward for her collection of poetry on tuesday june. 17th. from the u.s. to the uk. the world of woc writing will be expanding beautifully on this day :)))
xoxo nayyirah (via nayyirahwaheed)

(via nayyirahwaheed)

Mother says home is always is heavy on my heart
But only because I stubbornly choose
to carry it on my own.
I show her how I carried Gogo’s joy, light
like pollen on bee legs.
How her smiles made my heart glow
and I danced for her.
What more is yearning to a back
that learned to saddle expectations born out of misogyny?
I came with a head worthy of a crown that
passed over her, her and her, and her….
Reasons why I keep prayers
in the seams of my soul for daughters
And a crown for each in my eyes and mouth
But umkulu kulu said we will see God’s wisdom actualize.
So I tell mama not to worry,
Though my heart is a wildflower
I was taught how to harbour a caterpillars patience…
butterflies - Tapiwa Mugabe,

I fell in love with wearing black
as if I was mourning
Did away with the need to make my dressing a metaphor
Has my skin not been turned into a symbol for solidarity?
This skin black oil
My inherited legacy
Mother tattooed me from head to feet with assegai’s and pyramids
Before i discovered the engenuity of weaver bird nests in my mouth
My heart was as hard as guava seed
Discovered and lost god in whisky bottles
Budding iconoclast with a heart full of leniency
A Uhuru child
Stone house son
My war of reformation
A rebirthing of my ancestors in my mind

stone house son - Tapiwa Mugabe,

(via tapiwamugabe)
watching my mother weep in pastel tones, stretch her hair and her heart for men and God who , it would seem, placed far too much glory on appearance and sacrifice.
Te’ V. Smith Permission To Speak (via tevsmith)

(via tevsmith)

and what about belonging?
I have not yet found a place to be..
…so i am here
the evidence of a lifetime spent longing.
be(longing) - Tapiwa Mugabe,
According to you,
people like me
shouldn’t go into places like this or
be around people like these.
but you don’t know the half of it.
The brightest of stars, frankly
are just a load of hot air and
diamonds, sadly,
were just formed from dust and rock
and the butterfly, remember,
used to crawl on its belly
and tiny legs
through the dirt.
from Yrsa Daley-Ward. You Dont Know the Half Of It. (via thiswillnotlast)
There was a season
when my pockets were full of lint
and not tempting African treasuretroves.
I was made from charcoal
and left over rain trapped in the edges of sky,
An avalanche of kindness,
with tenderness over spilling from my eyes.
But I chose instead to be blinded by a plight
to wear purple and rose colours -
how I forgot how to see beyond my rags.
Instead I gained vision to see
what I had never cared for.
I stopped looking for the lessons in everything
I became stuck…
Until I heard my birth song
It came to my ears, flooding a new avenue
towards my heart
Reminding me, ndiri nyeredzi
nyeredzi - Tapiwa Mugabe,
I woke up this morning
to tell you the sun has risen,
to say that the mornings
are still in bloom like fire
lilies carpeting a burnt sky.

I woke up this morning
to tell you the yellow headed
blackbirds have decorated
the pinetree outside again
and whenever they dance
they turn into the eyelets
of a large peacock tail
spread just for us.

I woke up this morning
to say that my heart still
feels empty but my soul
complete like the full moon
in a cloudless sky,

that nothing has changed
since you’ve been gone,
that the sun still rises
and the trees still spread
their wings and that my heart
is still full of stars.

I woke up this morning
to tell you I am healing,
that with every burnt sky
a new flower grows in its
place, petal by petal,

to tell you that I am full
of a song I still don’t know
the words to yet but
it is coming, and one day
I will sing it for you.
I still miss you ||  Maza-Dohta  (via maza-dohta)
They would say that winter lingers because I am too chocolate and that perhaps the saddened coconut flakes falling from the lashes of the trees will make me a man sweet enough to devour. They say the sun in my skin has done something to them, has left them sour and that I should apologize for all my candy.
Te’ V. Smith Taste & Season (via tevsmith)


Happy in Harare,the sunshine city & capital of Zimbabwe.

Produced by URBANSPACE and Media Matrix


I am the tall dark stranger those warnings prepared you for.
Yrsa Daley-Ward (via thiswillnotlast)

(via thiswillnotlast)

sometimes, we let
our bodies
become breeding grounds
for saddness.

we do not see
all the beauty
trying to grow
within us,
around us.

fertile, f.gabdon (via thegabdonwrites)