By Mbonisi Zikhali
My heart is a sieve,
through which boulders that slide off mountain tops
and turned into beach sand in which I sink my bare feet in.
I have outgrown this playground
now I build sandcastles out of moon dust
enough for heaven’s entire angel census count to move in.
In my conversations with God/ess,
I, the child, drink breast milk from the milky way
so hungrily planets are consumed.
I am the child the world wasn’t ready for.
But in my silence I snatch earthquakes from the earth’s core
and beg them to grab you by the shoulders
and knock back the sense
of what I am truly here for.