Waves Of Rubble That Throw Things All Over. Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I look through the hole in my eye,
And see waves of anger rising high,
They curve in and turn everything upside down,
Leaving young and old strewn all over in a pile of rubble and glass,
Dusty they rise and the wave comes back and knocks them down,
It throws them into boats that throw them in deeper oceans,
Where they become living proof that the hole in my eyes sees visions,
That hush the world into a silence that is as violent as the silent waves,
This irony of a violence that silences like the silence of poison.

What is this daily acceptance of a spinning world that will throw us off,
the rails as we think with the wails of those whose lives are hidden in fumes that rise so high they darken our vision,
And get us lost in thickets of smoke on this way to our uncertain future,
Those who have met the death chamber are sleeping wondering
why theirs is a history that was written in blood,
Only to be read in blood again,
For no one wanted to give them a passport to a better world,
Where they would breathe the sigh of arriving,
Even though they do not have the treasured feather in their heads?
Joy is hidden somewhere in the future of the corner of my blind eye,
It sneaks into conversations of refugees running in the narrowest paths,
They speak laughter and anxiety to the friends on the path,
For them reality is in the bundle of clothes they carry,
For they are evidence they come from life,
And have agreed to take the plunge into the night,
Where every flashlight goes dim, when the hand stretches to it in a foreign country,
They wish always to be mosquitoes for they know they have one freedom,
To fly everywhere with no boundaries, even in the days of ZIKA.
For their constitution came from a place where words have one meaning,
Which they heard and keep repeating as they fly,
Citizen of no nation.

to the future with our heads spinning,
Only to be gillotined at the alter of the graveyard.