As I wake up from my dreams on my
chiguduli, I see poverty tattoed on
faces of lazy people, like a sloth.

My tears never stop flowing fast
like Victoria Falls for people
who talk more about poverty than God

As civil society organisations try to
remove its existence in our hearts,
Still, its scars rest in the hands of the

I never thought poverty would be so
common in my street, like the tarmac

I never thought I may honour it with
uncountable names like God.