LETTERS FROM HOME

In the deserted days
Where the sun is my champion
And the blood thirsts for water
I tell the rays what I miss the most
Hear my breathing
Sweat drip down my back
My hands cracked from the labour
Labour without gains
Split the grounds to pass the hours
Read the roads of my palms
Roads that lead me back home
Then I receive your letters
Your words are like rain in the summer
Comfort my blackened heart
Feel the elevation of my spirit
My people,the force of humanity
I cannot pray to surrender my heaviness
I cannot cry to release my sentence

POLITICS

We are making history
Politics on social media
Reality of the mirrors of colour
Colour blind to the human in us
Our future inheritance lies in the vote
In chromosomes,DNA and future citizens
Transplants,mutations into the superhumans
Terrorism the war within us
Abandon the heroes of the nation
Who left their ego at the gate of sacrifice
A lateral view of the voice of the people
Where politicians serve political interests
In the corridors of power
Fight the spotlight,the savage torrents
Of becoming the political superstars
Let Mother Earth die the slow burn
Slow burn of pollution,progression,advancement
And we are killing us softly
Focused on the exchange of currency
The Euro ,the Pound and how the Dow Jones fell

VOICELESS

I heard the piercing sounds of screams
Those were the strings of my heart
The slow drip of blood
Run within my skin
Close my eyes
I still feel your presence
Spine tingling touch
My love was yours
It was not endless skies
Free fall my world was cold
Hear every splash as the snow hits the ground
No distance cries of seagulls
All was silent
Silence to hear myself
Breathe breathe without gratitude
Hurt hurt without words
Hear the phone ringing
Whisper I am voiceless

SHE WAS EARNING A LIVING

Times were hard
She was earning a living
Three jobs a day
Paid the rent,school fees and food on the table
No Easter,summer vacations or Christmas parties
Meals were breakfast in the morning
Porridge ,homemade bread,water for tea
Bought charity clothes from the dollar stores
Lived on friends generosity and borrowed monies
Bankrupt ,the banks refused to give us credit
Milk tokens from the government
Water was rationed
Bathed once every two days
We hardly had any visitors
Played indoors the streets were not for children
High density,high strung and bullets through the windows
Times were hard
She was earning a living

The Lotus

Left my beloved at Necroplis
Challenging my spirit
That the ground would breathe
Bring you back
Embrace me one more time
Must have been a dream
The black glass coffin
Scones with tears
Goodbyes with no ends
Catholic carol songs
Destined solemnities
Silences in uncertainties
Reality of my days
Dejection in my affections
My citadel had fallen
Territory exposed
Bare barren deserted grounds
No rains to soften the earth
Licence the lotus to bloom
Unfulfilled void
And still the river flows

Anna Kapungu has a BA in Hotel Management  has been published in several print and online publications, including Jonah, The Opiate, Aaduna, Mystic Blue Review ,Halcyone, Adelaide, and Blazevox.

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