Bruce Kadzviti Poems

shall i pretend that we are alright
when i dwell in the shadow of the night
something is stealing our peace
something is killing us please
...

of soldiers that invaded the land that became their grave
of mothers that nursed the mouth that bit their finger
of ancestors that prayed for rain that drowned their grain
of husbands that courted for years the wives that grieved their lives
...

like a door whose hinges grow rusty
from seldom being opened
The room behind grows dusty
Yet it aint that darkened
...

everything has a name
except my dream-
do i even know what i want
do i even know where to start
...