As I sit here alone my child
On an anthill
Chewing roasted maize and soberly meditating
You might think that
I am just a washed-up old man building castles in the air
But because of your loathsome ignorance
And the millennial cancer spreading through your head
You wouldn’t know that I am walking on the edge of a blade
Which cuts through my flesh
Like the sharp tusk of a wild boar
Causing this body of mine long in the tooth
To lose a lot of blood
And my child
It’s a shame that you are too blind to see it.
Now as I pose with my grey-haired head
In my wrinkled palms,
My watery eyes watching you
Together with your derringer in its holster,
Whilst you spend too much time
On that thing called a cellphone that you don’t even help
With the chores in this compound;
You no longer associate with others
Or acknowledge your family
As if you are a part of it no more nowadays,
Just a kinsman of social media and gangs of Harare
I wonder my child how our lives ended up like this.
There’s now bloodshed in every corner of the city
You come from
Since guns were given unto you,
The young and wild
That you mastered marksmanship
Instead of arithmetic
In all the days I sent you to school.
You leant revenge over forgiveness,
Vice over virtue.
But I blame you not;
Us were blind also in our youth
And accommodated missionaries to teach us about the Kingdom
But little did we know that
They were helping an evil man snatch away our freedom
Now could history be repeating itself?
Have we been fools?
My heart is getting gnawed by worry and regrets
Gnawing on a strip of biltong
And I believe sooner I am to die
For there’s a wake of vultures lurking in the sky
Waiting to touch down and feast on my carrion:
For none of your generation will bother to bury me
For in your eyes I am not too sophisticated enough to be human.