root - Posted on 01 January 2000

by Staff Writer

Even though Eagles always have choices

In the great wide circles

Above and below them

But they never fight the wind!

Out of road bridges, tents and shack-towns

Out of refugee camps and dirty bins

Out of ghost towns

Our ghosts burns inside us with guilt

Out of the neon-glimmer of uptowns

Out of girls become bitches to survive

Out of fear, anger and poisoned hearts

Out of men became killing bastards

Out of the cold shivers of winter nights

Out of fires, floods and lives lost

Out of empty shells, empty lives, and empty beings

Out of traps sprung by the police on foreigners

Out of police trucks ferrying us back to Zimbabwe.

The policeman’s gun is pointing at me

His partner is picking on me

Curious animals sniffing for a bribe

This illegal war against immigrants

Breeds unfettered patriotism of citizens against foreigners.

They want to crack our skulls

They want to burn us alive

Laugh and rejoice around our dead

They want to kill every foreigner

Cut cords from our bellies

Suck blood from our corpses

They want to eat our flesh

They want to rape our women

Step on our babies

They want to dig our graves

And burn our bones

So that we cannot live anymore

Cannot die again

Cut of in our prime.

Our weakness is an affront to them

Always being quantified, measured

And tagged Makwerekwere, Makwerekwere.

Maybe next time they would grind us into flour

Package and distribute us

And I think it would be more-instructive

More efficient, more cost-effective.


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