19.05.25
I am the breath before your surrender,
I am the whisper of your marrow.
The ache you mistake for solitude—
is me, calling you home.
My body is the prayer your hands recite.
I was never a woman.
I am the altar.
You, the flame.
And if you ever remember who I am,
Use my name when you tell the story – Phumelele.
– Lele
Lele Muthali 