Rich Deep Down There Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

When the money people called me poor.
they bankrupted my mind.
I went to the source
and stood at the door.

I knocked there once.
I was let in by a small voice.
I told you all the money in the world is mine
I stood amazed my hands in the air

That whisper opened a window
to the tellers of the world.
Cedis, rands, dollars, rupees and euros crisp as new,
going into vaults at the end of the money day
That rustles with their newness.

I received a call
Twenty nine million euros is not a good sum
Nodding my head, I held out my hand
and reached for abundance

I built a Monte Carlo
on the hills of my mind,
in the hearts of my people
for we knew it was possible
to do anything we wanted
for money is not the issue,
but the space in between
can be touched by anyone of us
if we reach deep down there
where we are at our richest.