BLACK DEATH

BLACK DEATH.

(Second letter)

Josephat A Wangwe

“The match must be challenging,
those shouts are so much convincing,
the fireworks I hear are so lovely,
I want to be among the spectators,
where is the stadium young man!!!?”,
question to me by a brown- man in brown clothes.

Was he blind, deaf or both!!!?,
couldn’t he saw you lying on my hands?,
couldn’t he saw you loose your consciousness?,
couldn’t he saw you slowly dying before my eyes?,
couldn’t he heard even portion of your agony?,
questioning insteady of help to keep you in the car.

Let’s say he was drunk that morning,
but how couldn’t he differentiate nothing?,
shouts from the screams of the dying black generation,
fireworks from gunfires which holed black hearts,
stadium from the graveyard of little black minds,
I though of had him thrown deep in the black ocean.

My little Angel Hector,
restlessly our souls stayed that evening,
clay was wet wetted by young warm blood,
our soiled bungalows were flooded with tears,
Dads and Moms were searching for the missing souls.

Even today the land has never ceased to cry,
the wounds you suffered are still not dry,
today’s guns are a bit more advanced,
they kill internally with few external wounds,
they kill spirit while the body still lives.

One of those guns is the early marriage,
child labour kills most of the young dreams,
have you heard of how deadly sexual abuse is!!?,
Hector, things are beyond imagination here,
I wish they would experience what you experienced,
more are yet to be told Hector, see you on other paper.

         Poet; Josephat A Wangwe.
          ©medart-2018.(towads African Child day).