Poem by Nkateko Masinga’s
16 days of activism against gender-based violence
perhaps if
on day 17
our loved ones
would wake up
from their graves
bodies unbattered
necks untwisted
killers jailed
or in the ground
where they
took others
it would be
easier
to understand
these two weeks
but instead
we are digging
more graves
graves stretching
for as far as our swollen
black eyes
can see
names trailing
behind hashtags
none of them named lazarus
none of them waking up
none of them coming home
on day 17
the chanting is softer
the dead have multiplied
the mourners are fewer