Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
I have seen now, that this world
Is not nearer
It’s two worlds apart
I never thought your blood will
Spill out of our river like a deluge
And travel to those distant lands
And moisten extraterrestrial anthills
For their indigen ants to burrow
Easily
And without this strenuous effort
And drag the pieces of toasted
Grass into their fertile life and help
Water their dreams!
This is life my son!
Stay there far without memories
Without registering the place of
Your buried umbilical
Only by a day’s chance you will
Come back
To face your shadows
And those shadows will not trace
You in their memories
You will leave like a visitant
You will knock at your own door
And silence will blind your ears
You will spell out your name to your
Own people
By then their memories would have
Been long interred
Your mind will bury those trodden
Paths of your childhood
Home will be your scene of circuit
And other place of remorse!
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