The unpredictable doosra against which one can hardly blink
Nudged into a solitude of misery to protect that which is vital
The poet in me sees it; the peasant in me suffers through it all
Sitting by the railroad that leads into nothingness
My homeland, a hell hole of putrid beauty
The maggots enjoy the spoil and the corpse is consumed
The bare bone is what is left of us in the end
Phillip Nine Mafunga
24 January 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting poem. Well crafted