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I refuse to mourn Your death Mr. Dead President! I refuse to sit here And pretend to have forgotten How much your own people Waited to experience the sweetness Of a time like this! I refuse my conscience To feel the pinch Of telling the salty truth about a dead man Even when my culture forces me To sugar-paste my tongue When talking about villanous dead sots! No, I refuse! I defy the voice in my chest That tells me to dig your name From the ruins of dejectedness And elevate it To the pearly glories of "liberator" Because I know Such labels are forever stapled Onto the names of those Who touched the souls of fellow men With clean gloves And feather-soft hearts, Not those that filled their Souls with everlasting wounds And soiled their voices with unending dirges! No, I will not mourn! I will not block my eyes With vain tears Or else I will not see The trail in your wake- The military dictatorship The corruption The stolen money The blood dripping from your hand... I will not fill my ears with hollow wails Or else I will not hear the echoes Of the cries of your people Dying to live Because your obsession for opulence Robbed them of the privilege to live like you Or those who blinded you with Fabricated intimacy! For now, I will clean the log from my eye Throw all caution in the wind Clear my voice Slap my thighs And join in the celebration on the streets Of Harare!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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