Dear Daughter









I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime trying to

Think of what I could give you

 that would make your life on earth a little easier.                                       


here’s a pot of glue.

Because trust me, you will be broken.

Most of us are just mosaics with a fresh coat of paint-

Appealing to the eye, but full of cracks.

I believed that the world was full of broken mirrors

Until I caught my reflection in your eyes

And realised that I am a compilation of shattered pieces.

I often feel like a walking dictionary,

Forced each moment to fulfil definitions

Set for me before I was born.

Honey, this is a yellow-brick road and no one knows where Kansas is.


On that day you took a breath to unlock your lungs,

You were cast as a question mark.

How unreasonable of me to tell you to stand up straight

And suck in your stomach,

When your entire existence is an embodiment of uncertainty.

Yes, it’s mostly Rands and cents,

But there are days when you will have to pay with your femininity.

Put on a heel that’s a little longer

A skirt that’s a little shorter

A blouse that’s a little tighter…

So you don’t have to justify to the world

Why today you just want to put on jeans and a sweater

So your mouth, and not your body can do the talking.


To others you will never be enough.

So I want you to get off the scales

And you decide how much you weigh.

Walk through life like a poet.

The ground and the sky are your pages,

Your feet and fingertips pens that draw their ink

from the similes in your smile

the metaphors springing from your mind

alliteration cradled in your arms.

And whether you choose to stand behind a microphone

Or scribe yourself in secret verses in a journal

Remember that you are a book with a spine of steel.

Rip off the cover,

So those who want to judge you

have to learn braille

at the feet of the Word who wrote you.


here is a pot of glue.

Put it on the soles of your feet,

Because I want you to be that woman;

Who is most comfortable walking in her own shoes.

Siphokazi Jonas

Occupation: Under Construction I am a spoken word artist, subject to God the Word. I write about the world above me, the world around me and the world within me. I am learning that my poems must always be bigger than me if ever they are to mean anything.