Wilson Mapfumo Poet I do not know?

Flat Footed

The 
closet 
of 
my 
mind 
gathers 
the 
labour 
of 
my 
eyes,
My 
heart 
aches 
with 
sadness
The 
emptiness 
of 
life
A 
sharp 
contrast 
to 
a 
heart 
filled 
with 
strife,
My 
mind 
present 
yet 
absent,
On 
a 
wing 
it 
skates 
the 
air
From 
a 
bird's 
nest 
to 
a 
desert's 
tattered 
tents,
Eager 
to 
unravel  
the 
trapped 
myths 
of 
the 
earth,
The 
eyes 
set 
foot 
and 
stare 
as 
the 
sky 
undresses,
Its 
womb 
lets 
loose
And 
the 
dust 
takes 
a 
bath.
Cleansing 
itself 
of 
human 
scum.

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