Brenton Sizwe Zola

How did grandpa die again?  

 He died of lupus.  

         His father died of lupus 

                His grandfather died of lupus 

                              His great grandfather died of –  

It’s in your blood 

They say his great grandfather,
            My great great great grandfather       was tortured
A man thought to be a prophet  committed the crime
of urging African skin to believe in its own dignity 

– the original sin– 

He led a resistance of thousands
             Against    Belgians,
And looked to expunge a phage from the nation; 

But blood will have blood.
                       drops
                       and
drips 

And mud will have mud
       A plot in the ditch  

Which they dug for a man of the dirt
        And beckoned him             to return home.
Through weeks of shattered bones  and  monstrous machinations
Squeezing oozing mind from soiled ears
They scattered his liquid essence around that murderous room 

But it was that bloody smile.
That bloody smile they could never snap in half 

His spirit was inured.
His blood endured  

So they whispered a sanguine song
A liquid language  –cursed –
To spill his sons and daughters
From the inside.
Braking minds and branking bodies
As any trace of his blood is payment.
A penance to the will of ghosts.  

My blood is constantly fighting a war.
            In itself.
                       With itself.
                                                 For itself. 

 Low platelets

              [You don’t look too well] 

 Low T-Cells 

              [We need to treat you] 

 Low Iron 

              [Your blood isn’t strong enough] 

 Low Neutrophils 

             [You will struggle with this condition your whole life] 

Foaming ghosts, foaming for atonement.  

I hear the tremor in my hand.
The treble in my veins.
It’s the blood that howls the threnody of me snapping  

            myself  

The pains and pleasures of histories. 

              I can only smile.  

                           And endure. Inured.  

 It’s in my blood

Brenton Sizwe Zola is a first-generation writer, interdisciplinary artist, and researcher. Informed by experiences of childhood homelessness, global travel, and a lineage of African spiritual leaders, his work examines themes of myth, spirit, and sanctity. He is the winner of the 2025 Marianne Russo Award at the Key West Literary Seminar (selected by Andre Dubus III) and his writing has appeared in Newsweek, American Theatre, Boulevard, and on NPR. A former Edith Wharton Writer-in-Residence, LinkedIn Creator Accelerator member, and Periplus Fellow, he holds an MFA from UCLA. Beyond the page, his work has been exhibited at institutions including the Denver Art Museum, with performance credits at the United Nations and MoMA.