I too,am Zimbabwean. With my cracked hands The hangover of broken dreams Phantoms in an unkind enclave Lifeless idioms of hijacked promises Oh slogans,how I wish they had been edible. Now I smile no more, Now I hide no more A million deaths have I died, Used by the savannah sun, A ragged footnote of freedom Yes I have waited for this day, I have longed for this day Un chaining my chains Of hijacked expectations That smoked away my emptiness I too,am Zimbabwean In my angry Shona Lacerated with Bemba ,or Nyanja Crusted exclusion Have my generations not ploughed for you Did you then call my sweat alien? Now is my time, Resurrected by a new people s covenant, I am no one s alien So I wait too,to alienate,the alienator My birthright s revenge. I too am a Zimbabwean. Born free or free born Once the spirits were buoyant Hope then was the currency We swam in books and degrees But we drowned,the revolution s carcasses. Now I weigh and wait The glittering image of unemployment Some I will make pensioners, I smile no more This is my time. I too am a Zimbabwean . From this grave in Makokoba Where time itself never moves The more it moves,the more it does not I dance with the wind To the soprano of poverty. I fear no more The kleptocractic nightmares of Gukurahundi I fear not Cain Nkala. This is Joshua Nkomo resurrected. Its my time. I too am a Zimbabwean. In the dark glow of a caucasian tan A replica of an uncle that rode the Mayflower Thirsty of the drink For generations This land has captured my soul. I too am a Zimbabwean. From Dotito to Odzani,my Bantu heart bleeds From Mangwe to Dubiladzimu I catch the mirage of happiness No more,no less I seek the oasis of real freedom. I smile no more, The sheep to the Sherpherd of fear, I sing no more, The morsel to the high gods of greed . I weep no more. I too am,Zimbabwean. Not the redefined totem of derision Not the syllable of hatred Not the victim of violence Not the object of those old beyond old. Not the static of cholera . I too am a Zimbabwean. This Wednesday ,I rise. In the warmth of my stupidity, The tranquility of my God, The derailed memories of my lost heroes The soft morphine of my joblessness. I too am a Zimbabwean. I come alive again , In trailing lines of hope, Against the shrills of unripe propaganda The threatening fists of those without love The demons of a cooked voter s roll. I come alive. I will finish it off Momento mori. For I too am a Zimbabwean.
Posted on: Mon, 29 Jul 2013 21:37:57 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015