Savannah-Zimbabwe Graduate
Plucked i am,
From the flowering mopane
By the mother of the mischievous ones,
Only to be reduced
To a reproving stick.
Safe and secure i am,
Or rather i think i am
In my seemingly fortified pod.
Later disposed into the arid savannah
Where the hooves of migrating buffaloes
Forcibly crush me out
Seeding me into the infertile sands.
Scorched by the tropical heat
Patiently i wait,
For the refreshing summer drizzles
Giving back the hope of life.
Braving the blazing heat
I struggle out of the soil.
So that i can start my own.
Facing the new environs with the naivety
Of a chick just out of a shell
Trying to stand on my own
I become food of antelopes
Returning back to mortality.
Learnmore Nyoni 2014 (c)
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