Is it coincidence the windswept gorge ayonder is majestic,
Total happenstance that I am here, at this particular juncture?
Sitting on a strong Mopane trunk, uprooted by gentle breeze,
Having a scenic view, observing life beneath with all its beauty?
Husbands with hands worked thin, save for bulging veins,
Wives with pendulous breasts and wailing babies on their back,
Returning from work at dusk, when the birds are flying home,
Not for that rare repose, the children’s empty stomachs await.
Parents look contented, oft smiles disguise their tacit tears,
Aching hearts threat to implode behind unyielding chests,
Apprehension in their minds running wild and insubordinate,
Worried about school fees and where to get their next meal.
Shall we blame those who work for us, like teachers and nurses,
Or those who rarely do anything but loot, say politicians,
When the food that saved us from starvation has made us sick?
Is the given assistance a gift or loan to payback tenfold later?
We’ve run out of food and electricity, and they are in too deep!
They’ve gone blind with selfishness and run out of excuses,
Grown sticky fingers and sent their kindred to roam foreign lands,
Our future creatively killed by being consigned to petty battles.
She was up early this morn in biting wind to meet her sole visitor,
The water meter reader, who found her stomping feet for warmth,
Blue with cold, she had to be rushed to the nonfunctional hospital,
With neither doctors in wards nor medication to administer.
My presence on this earth shall not just be passive and ornamental!
So, I confronted the politician we normally see during election period.
His cross-eyed glance evident I was not welcomed at his premises,
With his soft ‘ciao’, I knew this was more of a farewell than salutation.
Let the battle begins!
#registertovote2023, #GudoHariramwirwiMunda