Motherland
With each morning comes a new genesis
That today would craft a dissimilar, Then
The echo of my voice to be perceived too
As it outs the grief that lies within the soul.
For father, disillusionment was all he could
Bore for the progeny, Though he allegedly
Spoke of the liberty he sort to have crafted
I never blamed him for his lameo progression
Time did vote me a bastard, that was when
I rose eyebrows and violently outed savage
For even the Phoenix had done unjust to my
Concern, Tatty retention was his upbringing
Even the ethical echo of the drum could not
Impact his thoughts, Traditional trails to have
Strain, What a shame? Not ever did his acts
Pleased any in the forlorn ancestral domains
For change he inevitably crafted the thirsty
Women and man did vote him a villain awry
Yet brothers and sisters so blind fold falling
For his schemes, That did brought conflicts
A handful of petty silver coin torn down into
Pieces the resistance that had stormed out
And eventually terror was all the deed could
Would post in the domains of Zimbabwe....
Then I realised that the struggle was indeed
Endless yet still inevitably crafted, Now the
Brother against brother, slaying each for only
Rounds of applause, Really was the situation
Even the blue suited comrade drew a blank on
This kin as he stripped my back, Then questioned
His conscience in that political storm which too
Caused social dilemmas. Victimised by my own.
Then came that day, In the new dispensation
Again another day, A dawn that maybe mine
Agitation and grief be eased with the seize
Power to the people is Democracy was, yet be.
To stood firm and vote for justice is the zeal
That burst within the guts of the brother, For
His phase was a dazzling light of enlightenment
Even not to condemn those now with the mighty.
If it is a chance, I wait not to see whether surely
I will dance to the drum once again... Thoughts
Patience paid before not today or tomorrow
It is time brother you show off what you gut.
I am weary in motherland, to have been borne
In a free doom domain, Some to say liberated
Really? where are the tangible benefits of the
Struggle my grandpa dropped for... Chinamora
Chaminuka the diviner and his prophecy to
Rekindle the blaze once more. A genuinely
Crafted revolution is what I stand for, no doubt
To die for if this riffle outs blanks in the battle.
I am tired of the hide and seek in the political
Arena of my motherland. The son of soil at heart
If ever there be a phase to post a cheer let it be
Soon for later I willsummon Nehanda and Kaguvi
My bone will rise again as promised. But this
Phase in the nob of my indite with which incite
A riot not ever been seen. Alas I will shout with
Vengeance to awaken the ashes of liberation.
Copyright © Wilson Waison | Year Posted 2018
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