Meditation Poem by priscah Mutswenje

I look in the future and pretend there is no past
But the past lingers around like a dreadful ghost
obstructing my way and destructing present with past
building mountains from hillocks and raising the dust


Could the pretense and focus kill the haunting dew
Could an honest private prayer seal the ugly view
Of the unhappy moments, desperate times that blew
Away my merry and suffocated brilliant dreams that grew


I read my diaries and fall in yet again another anxiety
Every line mocks my youths and sanitizes their vanity
This juxtaposition is a bitter pill and a harsh reality
The good end in worst states and the evil in novelty


That hard work pays, maybe it was a scorn
That virtues matter, then why do I moan
Why then did the vices reward swiftly turn
the bearers. And the keenness drove me to resign?

The desire the sire a life sweet and great
stands still and held by the vessels of trade
The noble job they say; what a narrow fate
That our own curse and they would not bet



Maybe it's the future that really matters
Tomorrow should start today in clatters
In me there should be hidden gutters
that could gather and store what chatters