The Lost Herd Poem by Dellas Chitekwe

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
the pawns
in a very dangerous game of politics
carelessly played
into the enemy's attack
and sacrificed
for the survival of bigger pieces.

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
dumb driven cattle
across a wilderness of thought
in a non believer's journey,
a journey that leads
to an unknown destination.

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
the silent, scared passengers
in a mechanic's nightmare of a bus
driven at high speed
toward a dead end
by an old reckless man.

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
the stale pieces
in a political stalemate.
forced into unfamiliar territory,
tortured,
ruthlessly eliminated,
democracy mortally wounded.

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
a people on the brink of despair.

Like stubborn cockroaches
in a rotten kitchen
we're languishing
in this cesspit we call home.

We're practically,
gradually,
pathetically,
quietly,
dying;
a clueless death.

We, the people of Zimbabwe;
the core thickets of desperate situations.