I wrote this poem when my soul was awakened by who I am, where I’m from and the experiences I’ve been blessed to have.
Zimbabwe is the most beautiful country in Sub Saharan Africa, yet heartbreaking when I think of where we once were as a country. Irrespective of who colonized who, who killed who, who voted for who, can’t we just pause and reflect about what we are doing to our country’s future?
No country is perfect, no people are blameless, no one is perfect but can’t we all just get along?
The Son, the Soil and the Sun
Son of the Soil, Son of the Soil,
Soil under the Sun,
I beat her, I dry her, I bake her, I drum
You,
You betray her!
As I dry her wounds, her breast nourishes and feeds you
Son of the Soil, Son of the Soil,
I want you to know,
The mutilation you have done,
It can still be undone.
Son of the Soil, Son of the Soil,
Soil under the Sun,
The darkness wails when I bestow,
I give light, I give you your shadow,
And follow you wherever you go
I see you,
I hear you,
I know what you do,
You or the soil cannot hide from my hand,
Son of the soil, son the soil return to her ground
And don’t say a sound!
Son of the Soil, Son of the Soil,
Soil under the Sun,
You are upright on her belly,
She is in pain, she is disdained, and she is swelling
The shadow you make is causing a curse,
I said I follow you everywhere you go,
I see you,
I hear you,
I know what you do,
You or the earth cannot hide from my hand
Son of the soil, son the soil,
I said Let her go.
Son of the Soil, Son of the Soil,
Soil under the Sun,
Now that you have heard me, I will move a cloud
The creatures, the trees will not be found,
For they will be drenched in my richness, my thunder, my quench
Thirst will become folly and only a memory,
Now that you have listened, I will bring another cloud
The soil you stand on will be loose and uncoiled,
Son of the soil, son the soil, now let her breast feed you.
For Now, she can give birth and give you grandchildren.
#sonofguruve
