Before we were tired and wasted away in bouts of despair
We wanted to walk long miles to places where hope was rumored to reside
There was talk that in these places peace was in abundance too
That faith could be gleaned from the resident pastors who asked for no favors nor bribes
Yet we did not know where and how to place our unshod feet
Some that were broken
Some that were swollen
And others that were bleeding
The roads were rough were rugged
Potholes looked like dry fish ponds dug out by the bare hands of insane people
Mother told us about how the roads leading to freedom needed renewal
That the course needed to be redone or else we would be led astray
Father said that it was possible to have long tracks of dead roads being reborn
That dead bridges could be born again too
Could be renewed into sturdy gateways leading to freedom at last
Talk was rife in the village that the rains needed to be recalled too
And that the tales of yesteryear’s grand feats needed to be retold
That the culture that made saints out of our forefathers needed to be restored
And not to be ignored
Sekuru Mukaronda was adamant that the faded paint on the graves of our forefathers needed to be renewed
Also by this poet:
Obey Victor Chiyangwa is a writer, poet and Lecturer in Literature In English. Obey has contributed poetry to the Independent Newspaper, The Newshawks, The Queensdale Observer and other publications. Obey is also a regular blogger, businessman and social commentator. His poetry and short stories seek to provide humor, education, awareness, entertainment and socio-political, socio-economic insight to a society bogged down by the need to survive to the next meaningful meal, another hopeful morning.
The contributory author of Chronicles From Africa is also a professional editor and instructor in the penning of poetry, short stories, biographies and novella. He can be contacted on obeychiyangwa2018@gmail.com and on Facebook and @wekwachiyangwa blog.