N'Wananga
This is poem to my unborn son
With tears flowing fluently like the Xithuve river, I wrote this
To let my son know that everything is never as it seems
Even those who identify themselves as saints, are not saints
In the absence of our eyes a demon that lies within them is born
Not to mention doctors who will smile at him on his birthday
Like the world is a better place
Welcoming him to a home of people who cannot differentiate
between love or hate
It is a territory of people who are hurt and broken
People who wear expensive suits just to cover up their evil deeds
Always wearing that perfect smile to charm those who are
Ignorant enough not to see their flaws deep inside
With tears flowing fluently like the Xithuve river
A silent voice speaks hope
N’wananga-Son
Copyright © Xihluke Mlangeni | Year Posted 2018
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