Florence The Saint Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Bitterly brewed and sipped
or just paranoid sweet like red wine to taste,
Barmby is my possession by heritage.
Barmby is my ultimate dream of a home,
because no one can afford to purchase Barmby out of my hands -
she stands upon a tower of gold,
down in the river of everlasting life.
She awaits my child to grow up and have her in full possession.

She was the most beautiful girl of her times in lady castes -
I later summoned the soul of Mary to meet my son in matrimony,
as it is because,
I was then ready to raise a proper grandson to inherit that home.

In my other incarnation of life,
I was faraway in a looming world -
in a shrine city founded upon a sepulcher of shiny stone,
under which lie legions taken by a very grievous war -
the grudge battle between the fed up Guccubu and the godly Titans of yore.

I was the true Mother of the Empire when the spirit was present,
I was the most beautiful woman living upon the entire earth.
I bore the full onus of the Queen with a golden crown upon my head
and its sparkling gems could blind the blinder and bring the blind back to sight.
I was Saint Florence Madzimai
with newly-born little Jehova crying in my hands.
I was the Holy Mother of the Almighty God.