He danced the Mapiko while stary-eyed

women looked on in fear

and lust.......unashamed

walking the dusty streets

searching for a cuandeiros

the dengue fever pitched

to the blazing ball of sun

he rested his body while his mind wandered........

a simple thought--------- what is the first thing

about poetry?

the thought:








behind the blue-green backdrop

of diamond-filled mountains

while children wondered of their futures

now that Maputo rules the land.

There was a time when Country was another word

they lived and breathed it

Their laws pertaining to the

earth and survival

their closest fence the tribal

boundaries of Sena and Makua

who's calls could be heard beyond the Mount

their poetry was in the day

written in the gaze

behind their eyes

their songs sung for truth not perfection.

He sat mesmerized absorbing the culture

understanding himself for the first time

by measuring his differences to those

now welcoming him into their womb.

They feel the need to build cities....................

Where universities will teach them

to be followers.

Where obtained knowledge

will lead them to conclusions

They will learn of classic poetry

but, in forgetting the dance of their fathers

they will kill their greatest poem.

He trades twenty dollars

for three days in a makeshift clinic

thinking about this place

called Mozambique.

Where the Cokwe

speak better Portuguese

than the Manyika

Where the Makua

joined hands and

became the majority

Where the poets walk the streets

carrying the truth of their ancestors

in ryhmed steps behind black eyes

They may not yet know of Homer

But they know of poems

that pulse their veins

sliding down the Limpopo

headed for the hash runners

of Xai-Xai




This poem is about: 
Our world


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