Monday, 30 June 2014

This life, our life



In a round-mud-grass-thatched house
They all sleep on the floor
Parents and children separated by chitenje
Next to them are just a few kitchen utensils
Of course, mtondo, musi, lichelo and dengu
All standing in for pillars of the wall
A wall made up of sticks,
Some grass and mated with mud
 a mansion for healthy termites.


Their clothes
Are left hanging at the roof
No, something like that
Very empty it is
Just a few grasses here and there
Only cherished in winter and summer
When the rain comes
They sleep while standing
That’s life, their livity

Their bodies encode messages
Of suffering minds, souls and bodies
One thing though keeps them moving
Determined and partially focused
Blindly vision
And weakly courageous
Because one thing
That and only
Comes to their mind
Their life is temporary
Hard, miserable, torn and useless
Dead men walking

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