By Fikile Dlamini
Pound, pound, pound
Blood vibrating through my veins
Stomp, stomp, stomp
I burst through the city of my mind
Darting in and out
I will not stop lest I hit the ground
Face to face
One must go down; the pound or the stomp
I am a child; born in the wild
Forced to reconcile
Predator and prey
Look up at the serpent
That poisoned my life
In the disease
The cure must be found
In my gaze
It tumbles down
That colossal monument of my past
From my fears I will no longer hide
Fikile is an educator living in the small mountainous kingdom of Eswatini. She aspires to write relatable stories that bring hope and encouragement to people, but also likes to have fun with her writing and dabbles with fantasy, poetry and romance (which she will admit is not her strong point).
