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Manqoba Cele. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.
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chronicles of me
1990 was the year if my details are in order.
When everyone at home was woken by the unforgiving blast of gunshots.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
And that signaled the end of a life,
The death of a loved son,
The death of a cherished grandson,
The death of a respected friend,
The death, of an unknown brother.
Yes, that was my brother, or so I’ve been told.
When this happened I was just 1 year old.
So you can forgive me for not remembering him,
Not face, not eyes, not smile nor limb.
I wonder how different my life would be,
If around the house it wasn’t only me.
Only me to bare the deafening silence,
Only me to see the brutal violence.
Only me to bring blood-filled tears,
Only me to inflict treacherous fears.
Only me, that’s how its always been,
Only me, that’s how im always seen.
For that reason my heart’s been stone,
Already accepting ill end up alone.
If the world can take what I do not know,
Yet can still keep safe my every foe,
What hope do I have that ill succeed,
What proof is there that ill proceed.
Proceed to live a long and happy life,
Proceed to cater for a loving wife.
All these things are hard to see,
All because my heart is not free.
I can only dream and hope of better days to follow,
Til then, what’s inside will always be hollow.
Im counting the minutes, hours and days,
Waiting til all this pain fades.
Slowly but surely, I will heal,
And all the pain ill no longer feel.
Cause I am a soldier and ill fight til the bitter end,
Cause now I have a weapon, a weapon called friend.