My Beautiful Embrace

My Beautiful Embrace

.

I choose to love myself

From my head to my toes

From my chest

To my tummy

From my fingers to my heels

 .

I choose to hug myself wholeheartedly

Truly, fully,

Unconditionally

Those old cheeks

Those worn hips

Those rusted knees

Ooooh,

There isn’t any part of my body that can escape

My beautiful embrace

 .

You, you wide shoulders who were told you were too masculine, too large, too obvious,

I release you

And you, you sinful belly that was deemed way too selfish to conceive,

I discharge you

You can now walk in peace

And you, oh you two brown feet who were told you were too flat for ballet, ronds de jambes, arabesques and pliés

I absolve you…

Jump free!

 .

I choose to love myself

From my bones to my teeth

From my lungs to my nipples

From my nails to my ears

Every birth mark, every scar, every wrinkle

Is now adored, anointed, embraced and blessed

Oooh

There isn’t any part of my body that can escape my exhilarating dance

 .

For today

I choose to walk the path of a higher shining life

I breathe into every part of my body with infinite love and kindness

And amen, and alleluia, and ase

Eyiiii twasakidila!

 .

© Sabrina Moella

My Beautiful Embrace (A poem by Sabrina Moella)

.

I choose to love myself

From my head to my toes

From my chest

To my tummy

From my fingers to my heels…

For more information, visit www.sabrinamoella.com or follow Sabrina on twitter: www.twitter.com/sabrinamoella

Why They Feed You Murders and Rapes

They feed you murders and rapes so that they won’t have to explain why and how they killed Patrice Lumumba and why his body was dissolved in acid so that no proper grave could be dug for him

They feed you murders and rapes so that you won’t ask about Floribert Chebeya, Voice of the voiceless, la Voix des sans-voix, whose body was found in the backseat of his car on June 2, 2010 

They feed you murders and rapes so that you keep not paying attention to the thousands of Congolese who have organized demonstrations in Ottawa, London, Paris, Washington, to protest against the 2011 questionable Congolese elections, to inquire about those 1.6 million missing ballots, despite only being met with media indifference and police repression

They feed you murders and rapes to make sure you forget about the hundreds of United Nations staff members who have sexually abused and exploited Congolese war refugees, asking for sexual favors from women and little girls in exchange of food, forcing Secretary General Kofi Annan to remind them about the basics of the United Nations ‘code of conduct’

They feed you murders and rapes so that you won’t remember to criticize your own presidents who have all shaken hands with those African dictators, who have all danced with the devils, put them in power, kept them in power, trained them, sent them more weapons that they needed, even though they are now trying to delete that embarrassing part of the story

They feed you murders and rapes so that you don’t research why in the summer of 1939, Albert Einstein wrote to President Roosevelt about the importance of securing and controlling the Congolese uranium, and how shortly after, that same uranium was used to start building the first two nuclear weapons

They feed you murders and rapes so that you can forget about Ernesto Che Guevara, about how and why he traveled to the Congo in 1965 with twelve Cuban revolutionaries by his side, ready to spend six months in the Kivu mountains and reminding the international community that ‘Patrice Lumumba’s murder should be a lesson for us all’

They feed you murders and rapes so that you don’t try to figure out which multinationals keep benefiting every year from these Congolese resources, making shameless deals with African mercenaries, exploiting African cheap labor, then pretending they don’t know where the minerals come from as soon as they have crossed the border

They feed you murders and rapes so that they can keep writing stereotypical articles about Africa, making big headlines about those always war-torn countries, taking Pulitzer worth pictures of those mutilated African female bodies, but never mentioning any achievement, any act of resistance, any call for peace or social justice

They feed you murders and rapes so that you can picture those Africans as somewhat inferior, ruined, powerless, as those good savages always in need of more civilization, more schooling, more paternalism but certainly not as clever individuals able to decide of their own fates, advocate for change in their own institutions, be the masters of their own destinies 

They feed you murders and rapes so that you can emotionally distance yourself from those five million dead, keep them far away, reduce them to charts and statistics, view them not as real human bodies worth a fair trial or a decent life, but as sad casualties of war trapped in a continent doomed to suffer

They feed you murders and rapes so that they can ask for more military intervention, so that you can agree to send more soldiers, more troops, more weapons, basically agreeing to more imperialism, more exploitation, more control

They feed you murders and rapes so that they can remain silent about Congolese’s first genocide, not mentioning how, at the beginning of the twentieth century, ten million of Congolese already lost their lives, subjected to forced labor by Leopold, King of Belgium, who exploited them to build his personal fortune while telling the international community that his goal was to protect and ‘uplift’ the Congolese

They feed you murders and rapes to make sure you never think about those anonymous heroes, those unsung individuals who, despite colonization, dictatorship, and genocide, keep resisting oppression, keep trying to survive, keep dreaming of a better life for themselves and their children

Because see, while they feed you murders and rapes, despair and hate and nothing else

Some of us still feed ourselves with truth and knowledge

Some of us still feed ourselves with light and wisdom

Some of us still remember the words of Patrice Lumumba when he said ‘I want my children to be told that the future of the Congo is beautiful’; or when he predicted that ‘Africa will write its own history one day’, and ‘it will not be the history taught in the United Nations, Washington, Paris, or Brussels (…), both north and south of the Sahara, it will be a history full of glory and dignity’

While they feed you murders and rapes,

Some of us still believe that the day will come, where corrupted governments will be held accountable and war criminals will be judged

Some of us still believe that multinationals will have to pay a fair and ethical price to buy our resources one day,

Some of us still believe that the day will come where our leaders won’t be systematically assassinated when they ask for respect and fair treatment for our people

See,

While they feed you murders and rapes, despair and hate and nothing else

Some of us still believe in the marvelous possibility of our own freedom

 

© Sabrina Moella

The Beaches are one of my favorite places in Toronto…

Today, I went down /To the Beaches /To write / Sand on my feet / Sun in my hair / Listening to the quiet sea… © Sabrina Moella

I wish I knew how to love you

I wish I knew how to love you

Quietly

I wish I knew how to love you

Gently

I wish I knew how to soothe you

Patiently

I wish I knew how to lose you

Nicely

.

Oh I wish, I wish

I wish so many things

I wish I knew

How to tell you these things

.

I wish I knew how to hold you

Silently

I wish I knew how to warm you

Kindly

I wish I knew how to heal you

Patiently

I wish I knew how to lose you

Nicely

.

Oh I wish, I wish

I wish so many things

I wish I knew how to tell you these things

.

If it was another time, another place

Maybe I would have handled it with grace

Maybe we could have had that last talk

Face to face

.

I wish I knew how to love you

Fearlessly

I wish I knew how to soothe you

Calmly

I wish I knew how to leave you

Properly

I wish I knew how to treat you

Kindly

.

But it’s a different time, a different place

And I guess I have even lost my faith

Because now I’m only left with little things

Little memories of what could have been

If only we had fought

For it

© Sabrina Moella

Listen to my poetry, rap and songs on my album ‘33’

Listen to my poetry, rap and songs on my album ‘33’ : ‘We are not ruined’, ‘I and I’, ‘Bina Mwela’, ‘The beaches’ and many more! #CongoleseFlavor http://sabrinamoella.bandcamp.com/

'Bina Mwela' the video is here!!! Shot and edited by Ms Bina herself! Your thoughts?

Summer fling

Come on, summer fling

Come again

With your random kisses

And your funny giggles

Your awkward rendezvous

And your midnight dances

.

Silly promises

Yellow blue green ripe fruits

Late night gentle swimming

And some bright laughter too

.

Come on, summer fling

Come again

Shine on

I’m ready

© Sabrina Moella

I saw you

I saw you with your nice woman

Cuddling, kissing, looking

Happy together

Sitting in that front row

Right in front of me

As if there were no other places to seat

As if there were no other places to kiss

Than in that front row

Right in front of me

Dying

Looking at you both

Shining

Glowing

Thinking all right, so that’s what you like

So that’s what you want

Tight hips, straight hair, thin lips

Everything you know that is out of my reach

But you guys looked so happy together

Yeah you guys looked so happy together

So maybe maybe

That’s what

Was meant to be

With or without me

She put her arms around your neck

And that just killed me to be honest

So I didn’t

Look at you

Smile at you

Wave at you

Cause seriously

What for?


© Sabrina Moella

Up

Sometimes you wake up

And the purpose is just so clear

Ancestors talked to me

Said Bina

What are you doing here?

What are you fearing here

Little daughter

Why are you crying here?

What are you needing here

Little daughter

What are you asking here?

There is still so much

To be written

So many stories to be told

So many roads to be built

So many truths to unfold

Don’t  you worry about foolish things

Little daughter

Don’t  you worry about foolish things

Wake up

Stand up

And speak up

Up up up!

© Sabrina Moella