On the day of the African Child

Written by: Edward Dzonze

They 
knows no 
shelter
but allleys 
in the 
dusty 
streets of 
Harare,
peripapetic,they 
wander 
from bin 
to bin
in search 
of 
whatever 
managed 
to escape 
the hand 
in good 
shape.
If only they 
had a 
choice 
they would 
choose a 
home

All day 
long they 
hide
in the 
condemnable 
might of 
drugs 
liquor,
trying to 
evade the 
unfathomable 
complexity 
of the 
Hararean 
mazes
which 
seems not 
to have a 
breakthrough 
at all.
Fallen 
victim to 
dying 
humanity 
at a tender 
age
they 
knows no 
comfort,
education 
still 
remains a 
mystery.
Who talks 
of good 
food in 
this 
neighbourhood?
If only they 
had a 
choice 
they would 
choose to 
be loved

When 
spartan 
becomes a 
shadow,
to be 
loved,to be 
cared for
if only they 
had a 
choice 
they would 
choose a 
home
but do 
they have 
a 
definition 
of 
humanity
when 
instead we 
call them 
names.
In our 
faces they 
cry,in our 
ears they 
sing,who 
listens to 
them
but 
punctuate 
them with 
shame.
Life goes 
on in the 
streets but 
what's the 
going
If only they 
had a 
choice 
they would 
choose to 
be you
so they 
would 
make a 
difference,
Maybe i 
better 
close my 
eyes and 
pretend i 
never saw 
this