Flat Footed
The
closet
of
my
mind
gathers
the
labour
of
my
eyes,
My
heart
aches
with
sadness
The
emptiness
of
life
A
sharp
contrast
to
a
heart
filled
with
strife,
My
mind
present
yet
absent,
On
a
wing
it
skates
the
air
From
a
bird's
nest
to
a
desert's
tattered
tents,
Eager
to
unravel
the
trapped
myths
of
the
earth,
The
eyes
set
foot
and
stare
as
the
sky
undresses,
Its
womb
lets
loose
And
the
dust
takes
a
bath.
Cleansing
itself
of
human
scum.
Copyright © Wilson Mapfumo | Year Posted 2013
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