My Daughter Is Dead

Written by Zuhura Seng’enge


I had a daughter.


Her name was Sofi,

She had brown eyes and a chocolate skin;

Jet black hair on her tender scalp,

Full lips,

Full hips,

A kind spirit with a loving heart,


I had a daughter.


She loved to dance,

Her feet were swift on the sand,

She made the beads twirl on her waist,

And moved her limbs like a snake,


I had a daughter.


Her heart was strong,

She carried her troubles with mighty songs,

A woman who looked after family,

A lady of talents and mystery,

A shimmer of inspiration,

A bundle of dreams,


I had a daughter.


She loved her home,

She had no shame of where she was from,


I had a daughter.


She was my child,

I knew her,

My God’s creation,

Born a beautiful human being,


Yes, once,

Once I had a daughter.


But you are not her,

You are not my Sofi.



Tuesday, 02 August 2016 10:52


Written by       Zuhura Seng’enge


Come home come!

A world of one,

A people without label,

Old and young.


Come home come!

Under one sun,

A family, not of blood,

Of joined tongues.


Come home come!

A  place of love,

A life with jubilation,

For woman and man.


Come home come!

A daughter, a son,

A generation without contempt,

A child without a gun.


Come home come!

I sing as they sang,

My predecessors with a dream,

For a world of one.


Come home come!

All children of Adam.

Come as one,



Come home come!