Tafadzwa Matamba (Zimbabwe)

My heart cries out for you,
As l recall it all:
The troubles you are swimming in,
And your heart that is sore.

TO tears l am moved,
Hearing you narrate the fates
Which are always against you
And appears to spare all your mates.

I imagine a lone figure;
Gliding wearily, across the plane,
A strange site in the wilderness
That is no longer sane.

O, my dearest friend,
I can feel the pain
That l read on your brave face
Trying to conceal it vain.