Echoes of Justice For Tapiwa Makore
The same shriek he made
Escaping the womb face first
In that cow dung smeared hut
Was still echoing in her heart
When he frantically whimpered
In subdued feeble scuffle for life
Fraughting desperately
In his inconceivable horror.
His sun set in dawn
He died the death of the grown
Slaughtered clasped like chicken
Body hewed gruesomely
Portions grisly extracted
In gory of utmost malevolent
Conjured by egoistic endeavours
Unlike days of bloody plunder
Incited by abhorred revenge
Privation prowls and lurks
On pathways wielding axes
To purge the sprout of hope
Springing off the black dirty.
The shriek he made
In reed knitted basket cradle
Was for justice and life
And the same shriek echoes
In her grief smeared heart
For her son to rest in peace.
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