It's Not a Fantasy

We can look into the future now,
See the impossible morph
Into smiles, shouts of joy,
As children skip about again
To welcome us back home.

One day, their turn will come,
Not to be chased from home
By desperation but by the thunder
of a tradition our years here
Have culled for them.

We can be forward-looking now,
Even where the the eye defies vision--
As what it sees pricks growth--
We can still see tomorrow's sunrise
And sing the new chorus of change.

© Emmanuel Sigauke 2008

Is this fantasy (Zimbabwe)?

With natural senses shut,
eyes of faith open,
I begin to envision
things that are not,
as if they were.

The tables have been turned
as a new era begins.
Is this for real,
Or another good dream?

I see people
pregnant with expectation-
filled with hope
and determination.

Hatred & bitterness
flee,
as grace adorns
hearts with forgiveness.

I see hearts of stone
melted by flames of love.
Change is in the
atmosphere-
trust has replaced fear.

I see brokenness healed
as dignity is restored.
From the North and the East,
the South and the West-
All are returning to rebuild.

Violence and bloodshed
are coming to an end-
people stand hand in hand,
as they rebuild their land.

I see people in battle,
slaying sin & corruption,
Fighting AIDS, division and poverty
with unity and with dignity.

I taste the sweetness
of liberty; a new ZIM-
May this dream
become reality.

Posted by Shilla Mutamba

Near Tugwi

Walking, sometimes running,
To the pastures, near Tugwi--
That's what it was, Tugwi,
On the other side of which,
If the water was friendly,
Was a place you could like.

But this walking, this running,
With sekuru, the young uncle
Who has friends who have other friends,
This has stuck over the years,
And I don't know why
The running never stopped.

BRAIN

I remember back when they said,
"Use it."
When we smiled, and stampeded
the landscape of youth, aware
we were already using it,
that using was so common a process
no one would one ever
have to remind us....

Now I see, now I see.

YESTERDAY AND ALMOST NOW

The dream, it has been taking refuge;
now all I can do is sit and reflect,
see Angwa and that vestibule of opportunity
when he said, "Go, go to town."

Back then you stood on Market,
chewing popcorn,peanuts, sucking Freeze-eats,
cared little about what awaited you at home,
no worry about gaping fireplaces,dry-throated pots,
even where your stomach could growl.

Not now. We wouldn't just up
and got to town, would not even look
for the shoulder-burdened boys
who used lug joy for single coins;
now pot and person swallow air
to appease chirped throats
before the dream roasts ambition.

WHERE WE STAND

Do we crawl when others walk?

Do we sob when others roll
in the ash of laughter
with donkey assurance about granite
tomorrows that defy the fury of dynamite?

And now we say we are not those
who sit and remember to spring up
when the clap of thunder
splits the tailbone of indolence!

CONNECT

You blink only your one light
as if you save the other three
for a dry day, so blink on,
sparing no second,
until I begin to see
why you cannot stop.