Witnessing and being witnessed
by Vuyo Mthetho
You might as well be dead
Closed off from experiencing
how can you claim to be living
without the wanting?
You cannot possibly call it alive
if you arent diving?
“But I am safe in here”
The fine China teacup of my soul says
Receding a little closer to the
shadowed black wall, head bowed
only slightly, yet enough to say
“How small would you like me to be?”
In the tiny wooden box
where the hard metal nails cannot reach
Sheltered, restricted, disconnected
You might as well be dead
Hiding in your bedroom?
Its only cold comfort - what’s familiar
is not always what’s easiest
When will you allow yourself to feel?
To need? Be needed?
“But I am safe in here”,
The fragile part of my being says
Protecting, covering, hiding
As if to say, I’ve only got this one chance
I won’t let myself get hurt again
This time I will feel safe
Forgetting that the truth of my being
is witnessing, being witnessed
Exposed, yes, but also held, felt
Desired and desiring
“But I am safe in here”
Your safety is a coat you wear,
An umbrella you open as you
step boldly into the night air, the pouring rain
It comes alive when you decide to trust yourself
to not betray yourself
When you choose to say
yes this being perceived
tastes like fire on my tongue
My skin set aflame - I’m burning red
Here in the new and unfamiliar
But I must sift, sort, align, feel
stretch, extend myself
I will take up space, cry, allow,
surrender, receive, be received, break and mend
I will commune, I will face myself
I will place my lips against yours
and meet your warmth with joy
I am safe where my feet are planted
I am home where my heavy body waves
“I am safe, I am safe, I am safe”
