Poetry

November 6, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Kumbirai Kupfavira

 

 

I am me

 

 

I am the image of my creator

The reflection of my purity

The beauty which all envy

The pride and joy of my conceptions

I am what HE made me to be

When I was conceived

I was termed Kumbirai Farai Constance Kupfavira

Am I truly that which asks?

That which is happy or makes me happy

The character of unchanging

Dependable, faithful

The gentleness

Which you eager to enquire

I am me because

I have defied

The odds in which

Have stereotyped

My perception of

Making me that

Which you thought

Would make me an image of your thinking

I am Madhau

Proud Zimbabwean

Of the Shona dialect

Of the Karanga tribe

Of the Shumba clam

I am me because

I am a reflector of my creator

 

 

 

 

 

 

Servitude to sovereignty

 

 

Why then did they

We had to take up arms

The notion of liberation

In which all wanted and anticipated

Achieved it, given to us

Celebrated its conception

And sought to think and was well

Ululations, jeers, tears as it went down

The Union Jack

Thieves of our happiness

Put down and turned back

Was it truly emancipation?

Or it bore us intense mockery

Cynical, sarcasm

Slavery to freedom

Eish is this what they sought

Not to have anything tangible

You can bank a cheque

But has it given in anything

My scars, flashback

Of what I went through

For them not

I still ache

I am nothing

Servitude to sovereignty

Why I fought

Nothing achieved

 

 

 

 

 

 

Born of a woman

 

 

Is this what is expected

Is this why she had to enervate

Is it us who make it

Has she not imparted much knowledge?

Given us morals to abide to

Have we been led astray by such?

Which is not ours

Which is not of our own

Not born of a woman

Not born of our mother

Have we been enticed?

That in which

We see that

Which is from afar

That we do not know

How it came

To be

And how it will pass

Am I the only one?

Who mourns of the decadence?

Which has bestowed us

No pride is left

In us, you, me

Are we born of a woman?

Or we are now puppets

Manufactured by that

Which feels and wants us

To be that which they

Feel and want

To toy around with

Do not have respect

No remorse of the outcome

All you think is you

Your personal

Achievements, self-gratification

Who are you?

To say that I have been bewildered

Whereas I am just but an object

An individual

Subjected to you

Are you born of a woman?

Are you even human?

The disgust which

Rattles me, when I hear the call of your name

May He who is beyond

Forgive me but is it

What I would have wanted

To see you and spit

Wish that which is not

My own thinking

But derived from your actions

You are not male or female

A boy or girl

Brother or sister

Aunt or uncle

Mother or father

Grandparents

Who are you?

Inspired and catalyzed your notion

Whom are you born out off?

Are you born?

Of any which exist

Born of a woman

I doubt your notion

If it ever came to be concieved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kumbirai Kupfavira 

Kumbirai F C Kupfavira is a field officer of one of the strongest and most remarkable artistic theatre and civil rights organizations. She completed her Honours degree in Film and Theatre Arts at Midlands State University and has since worked with the Midlands Arts and Cultural Festival. She is the current artistic/cultural, creative Artist Liaison for Protests Arts International in Zimbabwe. She also holds a certificate in Arts Management from the University of Zimbabwe and another in Food and Beverage Services from Phumelo Academy South Africa. She is passionate in sharing her thoughts and feelings through poetry in which she believes showcases the depth of what is prevailing around her and her inner self.

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