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
Good piece of work?