Life is given, but it is never light.
Introduction & Poems selected by Alex Gwaze (Curator)
For many parents, children are not just a blessing — they are containers of generations; threads that bind history, promises, stories, laughter, and labour. From the first to the last, being made a parent is the most visible form of care, one that continues to shape identity and values long after childhood, through adulthood, absence, and ancestry. From the womb to the tomb, time carries memories of love — shown, inherited, and sometimes endured — before they are fully understood. Parenthood is a lifetime role.
Creation
BY THATO ANGELA CHUMA
Motswana writer, singer, curator, poet & founder of Bold Poetry Sessions. Her poems have been published in Strange Horizons(US), Brittle Paper(UK), Words Dance Publishing, The Machinery (India), & more
Time had placed itself in her womb,
She knew this through a dream that made her a song,
A song that travelled between the past and future of womanhood,
With each day a spiral formed on her belly,
Perfect circles that mapped an ancient language of lost suns,
She would hear love songs that rose up from ashes, from stones, from her ancestors.
They were gifts,
They would heal time, they would love her when she grew tired,
They held her like a cloak of stars.
She felt her milk full with songs of creation, with timeless essence,
Every spiral was guided by her soul as unforgotten desires to find love within,
Her skin was made into a million midnights, dipped in oak honey to make her glisten like moonlight.
The spirals would glow at the touch of the sun’s rays,
Her belly would rhythm odd dances and mimic heartbeats,
Each day a song grew that she would sing with conviction of raising the dead,
Of being a lover, a beam of radiance, a tunnel through which life was a means to itself
She was singing her life,
Being made again, as time.
First Born
BY EMANUELENE ANESU MASHAVA
Zimbabwean multidisciplinary artist working across film, theatre, poetry, stop-motion animation, and immersive 3D VR game development. She has performed in films screened at SATOMBE and ZIFTAs, as well as in NAMA Award–winning stage productions. She is also a set designer who has worked for Magamba TV, Shoko Festival, and Matamba Film Labs for Women.
First born, a precious gem, a trailblazer true
A heart that shines, with a spirit anew
The first to walk, the first to talk
A tiny tot, with a story to chalk.
With curious eyes, and a fearless
They take their first steps, and venture within
Their tiny hands, hold a world of might
A first born’s spirit, shining bright.
But amidst the joy, and the pride so high
Lies a weight, that’s often hard to describe
The pressure to lead, to set the pace
To pave the way, for siblings to follow in their trace.
They’re the guinea pigs, in every new test
Their parents learn, as they grow and find their best
The expectations, the hopes, the dreams so high
A first born’s burden, as they navigate life’s sky.
They’re the ones who lead, with a sense of pride
But few ask how they feel, as they stride
The struggles, the trials, the sacrifices made
The burdens untold, as they navigate life’s shade.
They’re the ones who dream, of a brighter day
Who strive to make a way, in a world that’s gray
They’re the visionaries, with a heart so bold
But often, their own needs, are left untold.
Their laughter echoes, their tears are swift to fall
A first born’s heart, so sensitive to it all
They absorb the stress, the anxiety, the fear
But few ask how they’re doing, or if they’re clear.
As they grow and change, their path unfolds
A journey of dreams, and stories to be told
A first born’s legacy, a love so strong
Forever in our hearts, where they belong.
But let’s not forget, the struggles they’ve faced
The moments they’ve stumbled, the times they’ve been displaced
The weight of responsibility, the pressure to conform
The fear of failure, the weight of the norm.
Let’s acknowledge the strength, it takes to be first
To lead the way, and to pave the curse
Let’s celebrate, their victories and wins
And offer support, through life’s ebbs and flows and spins.
For being a first born, is a role so unique
A journey of discovery, a path so true
Let’s cherish and support, these precious souls
And help them know, that they’re loved, no matter the roles.
Dolly
BY CHAWANZI DAVID CHIBOMA
Zambian writer and poet whose work spans genres and is marked by metaphor-rich, expressive language. His writing explores the layered complexities of human experience, and through both poetry and prose he creates emotive work that resonates and lingers with readers.
Her button eyes are fading,
threads loosening like quiet sighs.
Still, a small hand reaches for her every night,
pulling her close, whispering secrets
into cloth that can no longer hold them.
I watch the stitches strain,
and I tell myself she will last,
she has to last,
because how do you take comfort
from a child who has already lost too much?
Her seams split a little more each evening.
Stuffing drifts out like tired breath,
but the child clings tighter,
pressing a worn face into Dolly’s unraveling chest.
I feel something inside me twist—
if the doll breaks completely,
what will happen to the one who holds her?
How do you explain that love can go soft,
that touch can wear things down?
I try to tuck the loose threads back in,
but they slip like apologies I can’t finish.
Tonight she is nearly gone.
Her arm hangs by a single thread,
her smile crooked and collapsing.
Still the child curls around her,
as if letting go would be a kind of death.
Please, I whisper,
please hold together a little longer,
just enough to keep the nights gentle.
I’m begging cloth and emptiness now,
begging a decaying Dolly
not to leave the child alone.
The Tombstone Promise
BY QINISELA POSSENTI NDLOVU
Zimbabwean writer and educator in Communication and Public Relations at Bulawayo Polytechnic. Also know as “Bangkhaya,” his work explores culture, heritage, family, faith, and contemporary African life, often weaving in local languages and vernacular. He holds qualifications from the National University of Science and Technology and Zimbabwe Open University.
I have placed this tombstone, my father,
on my grave —
but it is you who lies beneath,
dressed in smart clothes,
adorned by silence and ceremony.
Everyone points and says,
“That is a son to be proud of,”
“That is a legacy fulfilled.”
But I walk above with wounds unseen,
carrying promises unkept —
and prayers unanswered.
So I say this,
if this year does not bring
miracles or blessings for me —
if your spirit stays distant,
if my cries echo unanswered in the soil —
I will return.
I will take this tombstone off,
dig it out,
unearth our unfinished story,
and remind you —
I am still here,
waiting to rise.
Cover image is a photograph from the “The Hair Appointment” series by eremy Rodney-Hall, curated by Josef Adamu, founder of the creative agency Sunday School. Available at: https://www.anothermag.com/art-photography/gallery/12978/feels-like-home-by-sunday-school/0
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