By Richard Chirombo
In remembrance of the people we never know
I go back where she used to pass,
While sending involuntary tears to wash my heart:
"Oh, Dear, whisper in my ear,
The way it used to be, eh!
Whenever we, in oneness of frame, came here";
But only the winds talk,
As in the sun I walk.
"Just cough then, if me you don't want to see,
I never knew, Dear, that me you hated not double but times-Three:
Okay, at least my ground-thumping hear,
Because you hate me coming nearer,
Though time has washed the sadness clear";
But only the sun beats,
Chopping my heart to bits.
I go on, getting further than nearer
Tears of sleep crushing all the memories so dear,
Knowing that, with her again,we will never come here,
Sweetly afraid of the sun, moon, stars, dictators, autocrats and walking in fear.
Then, when breath united you and me, and love's intoxication drove us silly:
The sun, meanwhile, beats hard against my frame, as the winds in my lungs pass clear,
Because some darkness, riding the cover of time, swept your soul's plate clear.