When The Moon Looks Down On You Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

You must be visible from up there,
because you have a bank account
down here. The moon only shines
on those who have separated themselves,
from the coin jinglers. They that
swear by their power to stay
penny foolish are not admissible.

You may look like the fake next
door, but just because they make
a collection at the church does
not mean you will be spared.

They say poverty's knuckles are
worn out for knocking on people's
doors. They are always open and
the key dangles on the door. Big
enough to be seen on the moon.

Yet they still walking to share, a
life with cousin church mouse, even
though he squeals louder than their
empty stomachs. Lock the church and
throw the key away. They run in threw
the peep holes to their destiny. Their
faces are not visible from the moon.

This clan shines from the moon with
faces with a destiny. Their spatter
is derived from the rivers up there.
Riches is not the jingling of foolish
angry coins, but the smooth stashing
of soft, newly released notes, hot from
the press.

Which clan do you choose?
Wake up from this slumber
And join your lot. Silent
warmth of richesse awaits your
wisdom. There's a coin waiting for you
to show up on the moon. You promised the
faceless coin. It waits longing when,
my own face will be covered with that one
face that is just mine alone.




























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