Afr-Oman Poem by Nobert Mathumo

When every shape breads shadows
And the cloud wrinkled by the last rays of light
I wait for the sun to nudge down by the hills
Then I take my pen to draw you
It is strange I realize
As much as I thought I was wise
I do not know what shape to draw
My pen bows to the thought of you image
I get stuck between strokes to lead and ones to follow
It makes me wish I had god's brains to borrow
For how could a man draw a soul?
Who has eyes to see such a frame?
If you are a story
Let it be a bedtime story for every child
For tomorrow they shall wake happy to see another day
You are a language unknown to man
African woman