Get Your Premium Membership

Birds No Longer Chirp Peace

With these winds of July ever sweeping the earth, How should I follow the footprints of men that believed that no man shall auction another? ... Here, dawns are graceless, birds are no longer early to chirp peace. There is a mist of desolation befalling, even the blind see it, There are solemn cries down the woods even the deaf are sickening. ... Do you know that, south of Zambia’s capital, Thirsty thousand stomachs live in the barren womb of the Zambezi valley, Nothing grows but seasonal wild fruits And grasses few to suffice our cattle and donkeys. A lifetime's fishing among crocodiles, hippos and other river-monsters of the Kariba shows on bodies of men from head to toe; Our women’s hearts for survival fate them to gut what’s of our toil, That's how some of us have come to read and write. Yet his belly has risen much like dough Only to start sagging like thuggery pants; Four years it is since his eyes last saw his belly-button And word from the capital of his intended visit is said with tears. Greed and greed are virtues of African leadership, With promises only vials of black ink in a mansion of white curtains. Power can sometimes be as coarse as file and erode man's soundness, Only when the ant-hill is fresh is his wisdom next to whom that created him. ... Men of my country are capable of redeeming this otherwise proud nation But our leaders see us for chickens and dogs, Tossing grain at political rallies and swaying us into dog fights… Barking and champing at our own kindred, bembas and tongas alike While our kids like wind grasses in a country wind sing praises of insolent might only to burn in the wild fire. Where is that pride of free men standing under the sun of our land? Where is that sovereignty our forefathers surrounded their groins for? A soul borne to years of pitiable living has no choices, has no will to call its own. … True authority is like a shell of a tortoise; Rough on the outside yet smoother than a kitten’s meow on the inside, Doubt not, people like me believe zambia shall eat from the same plate again. 07/02/18 Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.