Do I accept me and mine as darkness? Perhaps I ought not to. For the generation that comes after us. To convince them as I have had to be convinced that there is so much light, life, in myself – in my kin – to give the world. But what do we keep giving ourselves to and for? Consumption, and consumption, why radiate if it is swallowed whole by the machinations of a coloniser?

I consider radiance to be a state of illumination and purification that culminates from an intense process of refinement. I equate it to the spiritual beautification of one’s being, the way one observes, the manner in which one speaks, listens and engages with the world. To be in a state of radiance is to be in perpetual refinement. Our life experiences in their variations and uniformities, and our choices, whether to resist or endure, become the processes that make us radiant

I sometimes retreat into confusion. In these moments, I forget that I am merely human, a transient being. My own radiance—that inner light—is inevitably dimmed: sometimes by the state of the world, and other times by the storms within my own mind

Radiance is motherhood. Being a single mother has given me eyes that I would never have in any other timeline. I am grateful for the gift of life passed through my womb. Birthing is a form of knowing.

Radiance is the light reflected from our words pointing towards what matters most to us. There is a deep vulnerability involved in standing beneath this light or feeling charged with directing it. Every moment of delving into this and choosing to be seen, to be heard, brings us closer to creating a life for ourselves from our words.

When I think of radiance, I think of fire. And here, we choose—provocatively—to overlook the myth of Prometheus, with its infamous theft and divine punishment. Instead, we turn to the Kuba people of the Democratic Republic of Congo, who offer a rare myth of co-operation between gods and mortals. After the goddess Tsetse is expelled for her chaotic tendency to set things ablaze, fire disappears from the world. It is Bumba who then teaches humans how to harness it, revealing its source in the trees. This myth invites us to ask: where do we, as poets, harness our own fire? How do we keep it alive? What does it mean to be radiant?