In Their Cozy Citadels Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

The queens and kings sit,
with crowns, diadems and tiaras,
telling a story as old as not
closing the door behind oneself
so that the next person cannot enter.

Yet we enter as eyes widen
at the splendour of seeing
things from witin.

Starvation for Knowing more o f the queenly
life disappears with a death.

We cry like they knew us. It
is a history of man. Piling
one space with semblance of
many makes a mystery to be
talked about as if it is real.
They sit knowing power, though
borrowed is to be guarded. One
is lucky, only to be buried in
the hour at a papal state.A quiet
somber day comes to sober out
the love of story one, in a
kingly rulership.