The Place Of The Umbilical Truth Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

When you are born you come out
the umbilical cord coiled
Then it dries up and falls
and then it is taken
to the place of truth.

They bury it in the source,
Where the clan is from.
Where is the one that fell off
When you were born?

You have to ask the bearer
of good news where yours is.
I am not going to tell you
because I do not know.

Questions are not about the money,
That cannot buy the truth
When it can pay for the lie
That keeps stretching out its hand
And asks you to pay it
For things it did not do.

When money sees beggars stretch their hands
It makes the loud noise of coins
Or rustles in your purse all the time.
For the time to give has come
To separate beggars from thieves
By asking the question, what for?

This questions is yours,
You answer it when you walk about.
You answer it when you sleep,
And even when you share with thieves
And beggars in disguise
Who come to your door hands outstretched
For it is a question of life
In this Swaziland that I know.