At the throat of Soweto
a devil language falls
slashing
claw syllables to shred and leave
raw
the tongue of the young
girl
learning to sing
her own name
Where she would say
water
They would teach her to cry
blood
Where she would save
grass
They would teach her to crave
crawling into the
grave
Where she would praise
father
They would teach her to pray
somebody please
do not take him
away
Where she would kiss with her mouth
my homeland
They would teach her to swallow
this dust
But words live in the spirit of her face and that
sound will no longer yield to imperial erase
Where they would draw
blood
She will drink
water
Where they would deepen
the grave
She will conjure up
grass
Where they would take
father and family away
She will stand
under the sun/she will stay
Where they would teach her to swallow
this dust
She will kiss with her mouth
my homeland
and stay
with the song of Soweto
stay
with the song of Soweto