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Malika Lueen Ndlovu is a Durban-born performer-word-weaver-story-lover, mother of four children and several multi-media productions. Her words and visions have flown far from the nest, making their appearances on pages and stages in Austria, USA, UK, Holland, Ireland, Germany and the Philippines. She is constantly nourished by collaboration with other artists and motivated by her personal mantra ‘healing through creativity.‘

2012 Evolution – Day 19

At the periphery of skin and unbridled imagining

Strings constantly pulling me from presence

Toward hidden desire, further knowing

No exclusive settling in the here, the now

Keeps me from this yearning for that, there, more

Un-navigated shores call, singing my secret name

Unshackling the parts of me that have been tamed

Muted by duty, domesticity, appropriate conditioning

Incessantly distracted by self-generated internal traffic

One sudden morning I may kick through the window pane

Explode the glass sheet overhead, not by physical breaking

But the simple act of truly awakening, as I have done before

The shattering will be music, perhaps only to my ears

Not even the rain of my unspoken fears will hinder me

Many will say I have gone blind, as they have done before

And I will smile, understanding that they have lost sight

Of an open, beckoning door which I cannot ignore or refuse anymore

Quietly certain of my return, even if in a seemingly alien form, a different woman

2012 Evolution – Day 18

mothertongue silenced, hidden or far flung

its musicality, crucial histories, lost poetry

dusty bibles recording deaths births

umbilical connection to specific piece of earth

travelling, morphing, uncovering fragments of self

as the distance from and definition of home grows

propelling soul into new soil, spirit to new planes

learning in leaving, the severing and love in the return

2012 Evolution – Day 17

To the girl locked behind the door of self-doubt
the one downscaling her inner voice, her intuitive dreams
depriving herself of sunlight, sea air, the company of trees
constantly yearning for more quiet, solitude, replenishing sleep
I whisper : awaken my sister, listen, come out

To the woman holding onto to the pain of her past
the one paralysed by the rawness of fresh mourning
reinforcing her patterns of blame, brewing righteous bitterness
burdened, imprisoned by her own fear, unforgiveness, regret
I whisper : awaken my sister, let go, walk away

To the goddess within all women, waiting to be recognised, embraced
the one who will not show her face or need to shout out her name
resting in the knowledge that it is a courageous journey to this meet mirror

anticipating the return of all daughters, sisters, mothers who’ve lost their way

I whisper: I am afraid, I am here, I am home


















2012 Evolution – Day 16

Life spirals, dancing us into and out of dreaming

We weave within then outside of each others’ radius

Not knowing when the leaving or arrival will occur

Or believing it is possible to lose the scent

Forget the intimate vibration of someone

You spent years of your life, shared your temple with

In the end, these circle remains unclosed, the people

Perhaps less visible or central to your voyage

Moving on but never actually completely gone

Then unexpectedly synchronicity recalls

A person, a place, a chapter you need to revisit

And in those visceral moments you are reunited

You are alive and awake to who you once were

Sight, smell, even taste returns incinerating the distance

Evaporating all the you-s you have become

Inside the woman sits the smiling girl

Inside the man runs the laughing boy

Life spirals, dancing us into and out of dreaming

We weave within then outside of each others’ radius

Not knowing when the leaving or arrival will occur

2012 Evolution – Day 15

Think train. Think carrier. Empty at birth, rolling from station to station, varying speeds, some longer stop overs. Think of filling up that blissful emptiness with all kinds of clutter. More than half of it actually not in service of your progress. Think travelling lightly. Think light. Feel the security of well-made tracks for grounding and smooth movement, swift covering of distance. Think freedom to acquire and to release, unhook a load. Renewed steam for the journey, unpredictable destinations, especially if you trust the linear navigation but expand your view to widest breadth of lateral observation. Drink in the view, fresh perspectives, distance from what is the past, how rapidly the present blurs into yesterday, last year, more than a decade ago. Sense the welcomed gravity of learnings, the anchoring of knowing even as you head confidently into the great unknown, towards all you are yet to achieve, to become.

Malika on BBC Radio 4 tonight at 23:30 about Stillbirth matters
Catch Malika’s input on this programme and the issue of stillbirth or tune in to BBC Radio 4 tonight at 23:30 if u have internet radio access. Maybe u know someone who would benefit from listening to this. Also send feedback to me via OR Borrowed Angels Healing Innitiative FB page. Peace.

BBC – BBC Radio 4 Programmes – Something Understood, Starting Over

Paul Bakibinga explores loss and how to get going again after a major life setback.

2012 Evolution – Day 14

If u give me a year, I will write a poem a day about rain

How this sky water has nurtured this Earth daughter

A willing captive under layers of clothing, in boots, around fires

Under umbrellas, she can only think of songs in response to these showers

Internal waves of gratitude that she is privileged

To have a range of options for shelter, so getting wet

is a chosen delight not an insult to her skin, a dampening of spirit.

Naming her firstborn son after this source, she knows

how so much grows when like water, like tears, you surrender to the flow.

2012 Evolution – Day 13

Time is my oldest tutor. I have been enlightened in some moments, but mostly a slow learner, certain lessons taking me more than a decade to grasp deeply enough, so my life reflects this level of digestion. Some heart coaching has strengthened this infamous core muscle, yet its inner workings remain mystery, escaping the vigilant radar of my brain power station. With my body as canvas, Time makes certain facts obvious, still my eyes only see what they are ready to accept and receive.

2012 Evolution – Day 12

My gradually ageing hands tug

at delicate crisp dead leaves clinging

to the still green stem of the potted creeper

in the corner of my carport

I cannot tell if it is the bent back stance

or the way I mutter to myself

tossing away the brown fronds and cobwebs

clasping the assortment of rocks and shells

on the surrounding bricks and blue ceramic tiles

or the confident speed with which I separate

the dead from the living

the obstructions to growth

unafraid of meeting unexpected insect

getting my hands muddy, spending this precious time

focussed on this task

instead of seemingly more pressing matters

waiting at my desk

and perhaps it is all of these things and finally

the involuntary humming

spiralling up from my chest

which reminds me, viscerally

of my grandmother nearly six years gone

her unforgettable unwieldy garden

the evocative, heartfelt gospel songs

she wove into her weeding and seeding

her blanket of green wrapped around the house

continuously infused with her extra-ordinary history

my extended family’s expanding trove of memory

dedicated to my gran Margaret Myra Conning

(6th January 1915 – 7th August 2006)

Find my tribute track for her here

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