April comes with rain:
buffeting winds en courante
slashing waters pimpling themselves,
fat drops on the windowpane,
that one day of rain, a shura we don’t acknowledge,
mashura nezviratidzo are our days’ order
April comes with shorn hair, 10-plus years of ‘keeping it real’,
clandestinely swept off a scalp
no more closed doors! you declare in fear of what’s to come next
one wonders if the sadness in the eyes a figment is
or this imagination runs wilder than when we used to suffocate our nightmares in several gallons of pissing alcohol
April comes with desire:
unreliable like ZESA power supply, unexpected like a dollar windfall mid-month
desire long suppressed like air in an empty rectangular Olivine Oil metal container’s thrrraaaaack sound as it is popped open,
whispering back childhood days of breaking toys to play with household goods
April rain,
the rain spreading the chameleon green grass across the baked earth rich and tasty looking,
its aroma fleeting like the sumptuous clay grey sadza remhunga shimmering
on the electric red plate fenced by a sea of white sadza rechibagwe
April comes with desire,
9 months sober you learn
to mistrust the fire of a lit matchstick in hand
these 9 months a baby could have been made
but a man on your body is more interesting in mind than in flesh,
your flesh which seeps its monthly red on the regular these days keeps tearing at your bones with its desire to bring new life
as the visions to come knock on your head with more urgency than the landlord’s messenger,
in wakefulness, in sleep the cackle of birds conferencing beneath your bedroom window
pierce the sun, its golden tears spilling into your room through the slits uncovered by the off-white curtain,
you are you,
April comes with silent agreement to turn the tide of hurt and aggravation
to more consideration, on both sides,
the children don’t know it yet, April is the fool keeping their cool,
their parents are growing in delayed time,
we mantra, we karma, we come to this altar of words;
i love me
i love my body
my desires are valid
my pleasure is mine to give or take
you are you,
you hold onto it-your heart, in a vice-like grip,
a hold only the three different bp drugs can loosen
you are you,
you retrace your steps from the door to the window to the gate,
hunting for the ghosts of promises past
it isn’t April Fools’ Day but
April doesn’t come with the stolen peace that’s owed
paraded in tepid, half-hearted tokens of love banking the river of clarity flowing towards your center
this April, of one day of rain, promising a cold winter season, following the time of declared national emergency, it wasn’t an emergency before?
April is the name of an attraction you are percolating, till you know it’s real
April is the process of your unbecoming and becoming
April is the urgent work you are doing on bits of you long ignored
watch the flowers drop their heads, wilting to manure themselves into a new season, feel the sun on your back turning down its heat
this April you walk backwards to return and get what is lost
quietening the flood roaring in your head, this arrival may change you yet, may take you over to the other place, of more aloneness
so, you look at this April rain, meditate the world-in-one in the particles rivuleting on the uneven windowpane
and you tell this RAIN,
bathe me in the deluge of your sparkling brown
i am not yet complete/
****
en courante– French for current run or at a run
shura– Karanga for an omen
mashura nezviratidzo– Karanga for omens and miracles
sadza remhunga– Karanga for millet Sadza
sadza rechibagwe– Karanga maize Sadza
Zaza Muchemwa authored the short story, Dance with yesterday and the plays, The IVth interrogation, Numbers and A Westerly Wind. Her poetry has been published on the Pen International Website, Badilisha Poetry Xchange, in Zimbabwean Newspapers and included in the Zimbabwean Women Poetry Anthology by Carnelian Heart Publishing, ‘Tesserae’, Zimbabwe Poets for Human Rights Anthology, ‘All Protocols Observed’ and Cyphers Poetry Anthology Volume 87. She has written for Index on Censorship Magazine, Povo Magazine, MUD Journal and other publications. Zaza is an award-winning theatre director and producer, directing several productions including The Incident by Joakim Daun which won the 2018 NAMA Award for outstanding theatre production, and How are you really? by Chiedza Rwodzi, which won a NAMA award for outstanding theatrical production and a 2022 NAMA Award for outstanding director. She is director of a series of plays, We Are Us by Vaviri Creative, which had a successful run at Kampala International Theatre Festival 2023. Zaza is the Associate Artistic Director for Almasi Collaborative Arts. She is a 2022 Honorary Fellow in Writing with the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa.