A chant in-distant,
The woes of a woman engraved in soil
You hear her cries,
Her agony,
Her heart wrenching with every fist, every word
A broken record, she almost sought it to be true
Drilled in her vision are tainted memories
stripping her of her armor, her pride, her joy, her youth, her rights
But alas! is it not that silence supports the accusers charge?
You watch her beaten, butted and broken
Yet cowardly, you bite your tongue,
“Not my monkey, not my circus”?
If so then swallow the words you chant in the public
Swallow the words as well when it is your own child on the line
Do not make a ruckus and riot in our streets when your own house is on fire!
What say that makes you?
“No it’s his right”
His right?
His right to mar the fresh not of his making?
His right to beat and bruise that which he did not create?
You laugh and maim a child of the soil and they let you,
You with vainglorious intent,
Hold no power, as you prey on the weak to feel superior.
How Nefarious!
Shame be engraved within your heart
Shame on you.
Evil counsel travels fast,
yet again foolishness is indeed the sister of wickedness.
She who you have shamed and maimed will stand victor once more,
After all,
Is it not your pain that makes you stronger?
Careful,
The sheep in lion cloth will soon become the prey.
Kudzai Chidamba
~•Ephemeral embrace•~ 