Dry Riverbed Poem by Phillip Nine Mafunga

Snaking downhill to the low plains sometimes permanently changing course
In dry season all that it ever was, is but oblivion
The history is never lost; it is carved on the surface of the stubborn earth for all to see
Underneath that dryness, the reminder of the flow lies buried

The trees on the banks sing a different song, so lively and happy
Dancing in the wind under the menacing glare of the sun
Seemingly oblivious of the dryness around
Come summertime the roar of the torrent is heard afar off.


Phillip Nine Mafunga
08 October 2019