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.
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.
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.
In too deep, politicians gone blind with selfishness,
Grown sticky fingers and sent their kindred to roam foreign lands,
Our future creatively killed by being consigned to petty battles.
My presence on this earth shall not just be passive and ornamental!
So, I confronted the minister we only see during election period.
His cross-eyed glance evident I was not welcomed at his premises.