whiteheart

<p>my mother scraped asked & begged</p><p>& did what not & took me to a</p><p>sangoma. the healer had flames in</p><p>her eyes & the smell in her little</p><p>room full of bones & dark bottles &</p><p>herbs & animal skins sat down</p><p>heavily on my stomach. with a dirty</p><p>rusty razor she made incisions on</p><p>my elbows forehead chest & ankles.</p><p>she rubbed snuff mixed with</p><p>something other in the little wounds.</p><p>i drank litres of water plus some</p><p>other medicine on her order stuck</p><p>two fingers deep in my mouth &</p><p>vomited. she saw stories of early</p><p>death & foreboding times for me in</p><p>my vomit... when they slaughtered</p><p>two chickens & smeared the blood</p><p>over me i didn't lose consciousness.</p><p>but i have been doing so ever since.</p><p>I've never celebrated nor embraced negativity in</p><p>my life. Every single thing I have tried to do or</p><p>written has come out of a need to actually</p><p>eradicate or wipe out whatever it is that seeks to</p><p>destroy the soul of other people.</p><p>I respect the WORD. People talk about wordplay I</p><p>don't play with it... it's one of the most powerful</p><p>weapons in the world.</p><p></p>