When The Golden Arrow Lands On My Forehead Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I who lives in this rich valley of gold,
Where you scoop out money with the hands,
Watch the valley go to sleep daily,
Hoping that the arrow out there,
In the hands of the hunter whose bow,
Is bend into two ready to shoot out,
Would land on my forehead.

I wish my forehead was narrow,
So the arrow would shake the head,
And get stuck in there forever,
For this would make me stand out,
So that all the goodness of the bay,
Would go into me like poison,
And spread with the power of venom,
Giving me the power and drive,
That makes me tremble with wealth,
Like those who flower this valley.

The likes of them live big,
While the poor of them live small,
Jogging on pathways where I do,
Breathing this air we share,
But none of their luck and genius,
Rubbing into me like ointment,
That can be smelt afar in my hair.

I wish the arrow of wealth,
Unending like the jar of oil,
Biblical incantation it is,
That was poured on the feet,
And wiped with hair like mine,
Would linger in its actions,
Foretelling a lasting blessing.

They say I am a dreamer,
Daughter of the spirit gone,
That came from the caves long ago,
To keep looking at the earth,
With nothing in my hand,
But praying for the cavernous deeds,
That can change me into the princess,
Not forgotten by the kings.

You will know when I step out,
For I will have the mark of wonder,
This bindi dot on my forehead,
This Hindu attestation to greatness
For I will have joined the ones,
We call the noble of the earth,
Never to back up and open the gates,
For I will have become the gate keeper,
A job I envied throughout life.

Why this violent act mysterious,
You ask for you do not know,
How filling wheel barrows of sand,
Leaves the hands calloused and hard,
With the owner unable to work,
Or rub the two hands together,
Without feeling hardness her heart?


If you thought I would open gates,
You should have seen all politicians,
Praying to be elected and going,
Into the shiny offices and opening,
The gates of hell that haunt us daily,
With us wishing they would close the gates,
If not hire us as gatekeepers,
For we can keep misery off the face
Of this earth that is in ever flowing tears,
That can fill the Nile a thousand times.