A Little Bit Of Sunshine

Always taking comfort in the fact that Maya Angelou liked to rhyme In and out of time That John Keats fell in love too easily We all lived on the same block  James Baldwin's nose tucked in his newspaper  While the radio crooned Marvin Gaye Across the street, Toni watered her marigolds  Alice took a short stroll A young Nikki saved a spider  caught on the path And Zora, bless her,  ran in the middle of the road. Gcina carried her wares on her head and did not leave until every last one sold. After dark, we will all gather on a table That wraps around the block Share stories of the day and pass the salt Potatoes and greens We will pour the sweet tea And sink our teeth into every morsel.

Hello, Sunshine folk! This blog has seen a few rebrands over the years... It began as Lady in Pearls, a witty commentary on girlhood and its trials. Then, as I shed my girlish skin and came into young adulthood, it grew with me. My twenties saw me wrestling with depression, loneliness, and uncertainty about who I was gonna be. A Little Bit of Sunshine was birthed from those questions. I sought to create a space in which I could escape. The girl who had shoved her blog in the faces of her exasperated friends, suddenly withdrew... My prose had abandoned its clever, showy delivery in exchange for raw vulnerability. Not something I wanted the world to see.  Then there was the Toni Morrison phase – in which I became obsessed with the turn of phrase. I wrote about places I've never been and loves I've never had. If my world was limited, I could always fill it on paper like a map. I think back on this period fondly; some of my most creative and celebrated words were birthed then.  Bu...

My good friend Rachel came up with something she calls, a List of Little Things, as an alternative to drawing up intense goals for the New Year. The list of little things doesn't demand perfection or validation, or changes visible to the eye or our algorithms. Just the quiet, little moments that give us relief or personal joy. So I made my own list, on a whim. The tiny ideas buzzing around my head all day. To my surprise, I've actualized some of them without even noticing. Here it is: write a ton of essays. attempt a short story. start a scrapbook. meet with friends. publish a children's book. be part of a creative group. learn something new. take a walk everyday. drink water and pray. and pray and pray. dance and laugh more often. cook meals from scratch. experiment with my hair. dare to dream. paint a jellyfish, make a wish. read a few books. do my laundry. paint my toes. clean my room. take vigorous notes. speak up more and ask questions. teach someone something. get bet...

Love is not something you can trick entice or earn.  It doesn't care if you're Miss Interesting  or Mr Elusive It doesn't note if you have a thousand hobbies  A dream job, six dogs Not if you frequent the gym or bare your skin Not if you write soliloquys and sing hymns Not if you take your coffee with low fat milk Not if you learn a new language Not if you doodle on the corners of your notebook or write a novel Not if you win a Nobel Prize Earn the license to fly Not if you sew your own clothes and build your own home Not if you cook up a storm Or invent a new form of travel.  Love is love is love.  Love is not something you chase Love searches for you in the crowd Love leaves no room for doubt  Love draws near to you Falls over itself like a plant at the first  glimpse of sunlight Love is love is love.  It’s either there or it isn't. 

She didn't eat But when she ate, she ate the Word of God She didn't drink But when she drank, she drank the Spirit of God She didn't work But when she worked, she worked for the purpose of God She didn't dress But when she dressed, she dressed herself in holiness She didn't dance  But when she danced, she danced like David danced  She didn't talk But when she talked, she talked to the very face of God She didn't walk But when she walked, she traced the steps of the Lord 

Maybe I deserve more  Than the change falling out of your pocket After you've spent your best.  Maybe I deserve more  Than the charred remains left  After you've wined and dined the rest.  Maybe I deserve more than half-promises.  For there's always a hint of love  on the tip of your tongue.  But it never reaches full maturity It always stays young.  Maybe I deserve a love  That is solid and whole.  One I can actually hold with both hands Before it melts like a block of ice.  Maybe I don't have to be cooler.  Or try.  Breaching my own boundary lines For a love that was never mine. 

You're the picture of humility  and self-proclaimed righteousness  We love-starved addicts can't help  but fall into your stare Even when it starts to resemble a snare We cocoon ourselves into your web That once felt like a safety net You don't even know you're doing it  Your venom is sweetness  Your poison disguised as treatment  for another ailment  Your love is different from the others It doesn't run out, it smothers  I become a mould of your worst insecurities You are low-hanging fruit  from an empty tree. 

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May." - William Shakespeare  May brought with it  the scent of rosebuds And lilies.  Lavender skies and light jackets Sweet tea packets.  I lifted my pinkies in the air and clinked cups with the ones I loved.  But the tea didn't stay warm The rainbow clouds dissolved  as quickly as they formed And the roses bore thorns.  I learnt there is a time for everything I swore I was above.  Fear, betrayal, even love I learnt that beauty sat along the razor edge of pain.  That a harvest was a bloody affair Being pulled out by the roots and skinned alive.  It is a terrifying thing to survive. 

Melancholy sinks its teeth  into my neck with cunning As I recall our history through a sepia haze...  And leave the ending a mystery.  Oh, but we were stunning The light always knew exactly  where to hit our faces.  Casting us in silhouette Unable to take true form just yet.  But the promise of it...  Tantalising, so close I could taste it Like a promise kept in suspense. So I lived in perpetual sunset Never seeing the full light of day. Even as the curtains closed and the lights dimmed The audience's applause began to slow We muttered about losing our window But we were just a no hit wonder With nothing to show. 

For whatever reason My best intentions were not enough to save us For whatever reason We have only a short time on this earth Before we turn into dust For whatever reason My meticulously laid plans  all became a bust For whatever reason A 30 year-long grudge  died suddenly without a fuss. 

"None of my friends are becoming legendary  directors, and I'm getting concerned."  - Sthuthukile Biyela, 2025  It’s been a few years since Issa Rae coined the term 'networking across' in an interview and changed my brain chemistry forever.  As a young creative, I was prone to watching inspirational videos of my idols: Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou and, um... Shonda Rhimes.  While their words stoked a fire in my heart, the sheer size of their legend created a large dissonance in my mind. What miracle would it take for me to become like them?  Then I saw Issa Rae speak on networking across – the idea that the greatest resources you had were the people around you, the people who shared your passion and goals. Those were the people who could propel you towards greatness and help you achieve your wildest dreams. I began to think of how many success stories started out as a simple favour to a friend, or a joint project that probably never saw the light of day....

Various Vases, by Sthuthukile Biyela  (crayon on paper)  "Take out your creativity books , "   my teacher says.  It's my favourite time in class I am really good at literasy   And I am fine with numbers But creativity is where I tip my hat and greet the stars Win a race with my flying car And off I go, near and far Then land back on my desk Before anyone notices I was gone.  Mrs Kroutz leans over my shoulder "That's a pretty drawing, sweetie..."

We chew our gum ever so politely and stick it under our seats When it's time to share our piece Mine is about trees... again Willows with wilting leaves  and poplars happily chatting away I can pull out a tree metaphor Faster than a weed But today is different As the circle goes around, I crumple up my pretty perfect words and turn to the lost and found section  Of my notebook  Here the words are murky and leave an ugly residue  They're the thoughts I've buried in my head I'm not proud to share But even the oldest wounds needs some air and as I let it bleed  I'm closest thing to a tree than I'll ever be