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.