How Much Longer, Mr. Mugabe?
Freedom fighting days are decades over
Yet the spectre of oppression looms still:
Quondam hero, the villain now.
The people are clubbed for their choices
Drugged with darts of poisoned opinions.
Teeming billionaires, nonetheless impoverished
- Taunted by daily bread and a harrowing living.
The rich land hoards its treasures from injustices
Gifted comrades unable to cajole it with steely faces,
Nor trowel it with tongues thickly coated with guile.
Mothers and pouched babies slither away to safety:
Cuts, bruises, ripped garments the rite of passage.
Diseases transmitted abroad rather than export crops
Earning the hard currencies of reproach and indignities.
Darkness cloaks the land.
Only hope today lights up this abyss
- as a flickering candle.