There is silence when a bomb explodes
Noise where no-one lives
The epitaph is your birth certificate in heaven
Your anger motivates me
Your silence screams in my conscience
And after I am gone
They will see the saint in you
Who called me a moron behind my back?
I heard the whisper and knew it had to be a friend
I know the name, what I need to know is the face
Because all traitors are Jude-asses
‘I know he fucked my wife’ he was saying
‘What I need to know is whether he’s suffering from the same disease
Did he get the same dose of penicillin as I did?’
It was not long before the answer presented itself
The wounded man was on herbs
And died of his faith
From men without hearts
Out of women with a conscience missing
Came thugs with triple 6 on their foreheads
While their mothers boasted and their fathers welcomed
The diseased in-laws gave money and infections
For which doctors could not prescribe injections
In Genesis after the sun sank it was another day
With men after the sun sank it was another baby
Good people what can we do with all this darkness
Scientists never tell
The Bible never says
Pfumo was born Dunstan Pfumojena Chaitezvi in Harare [then Salisbury] in 1970. He enjoys mostly reading and once in a while, writing fiction i.e. poetry, prose, short stories and novels. Pfumo also writes music, advertisements and scripts for drama. Most of his life he has been an amateur writer living mainly on Architecture and Construction.
Pfumo’s writing career began at age 10 when he got his first novel; Gehena Harina Moto by Giles Kuimba. He went on to read hordes of other Shona novels enjoying both the storylines as well as getting an appreciation of the Shona culture.
After 4 years of intense Shona novel reading he moved on to read African writers including Western crime and detection novels.