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by Staff Writer
Even though Eagles always have choices
In the great wide circles
Above and below them
But they never fight the wind!
Out of road bridges, tents and shack-towns
Out of refugee camps and dirty bins
Out of ghost towns
Our ghosts burns inside us with guilt
Out of the neon-glimmer of uptowns
Out of girls become bitches to survive
Out of fear, anger and poisoned hearts
Out of men became killing bastards
Out of the cold shivers of winter nights
Out of fires, floods and lives lost
Out of empty shells, empty lives, and empty beings
Out of traps sprung by the police on foreigners
Out of police trucks ferrying us back to Zimbabwe.
The policeman’s gun is pointing at me
His partner is picking on me
Curious animals sniffing for a bribe
This illegal war against immigrants
Breeds unfettered patriotism of citizens against foreigners.
They want to crack our skulls
They want to burn us alive
Laugh and rejoice around our dead
They want to kill every foreigner
Cut cords from our bellies
Suck blood from our corpses
They want to eat our flesh
They want to rape our women
Step on our babies
They want to dig our graves
And burn our bones
So that we cannot live anymore
Cannot die again
Cut of in our prime.
Our weakness is an affront to them
Always being quantified, measured
And tagged Makwerekwere, Makwerekwere.
Maybe next time they would grind us into flour
Package and distribute us
And I think it would be more-instructive
More efficient, more cost-effective. |
