Poem by Lovemore Chimaliro
This poem depicts the voice of a street kid, or any other marginalised person in the community
THE POEM
WHO AM I
When you rise in the morn
And retire at night,
Do you ever wonder about me?
Even though I breathe like you,
Do you ever think about me?
Am I the foul wind that reeks acrid?
Punching your perfume into nothingness?
Am I the cloister from the village latrine?
The confusion of smells from a thousand sick bellies?
Am I the poisonous, pungent smell?
From which you twist your covered nose?
Am I the dead leaf in your garden?
Lifeless, useless?
Am I a weed, quickly, violently uprooted and thrown away?
Am I the ungerminated seed?
Dead before death?
Am I the dust in your lane?
That swirls madly at the wind’s tugging?
That dances wildly, dirtying your lives and limbs?
Am I the stubborn stain on your pavement?
That you skip over as you amble to and fro?
Am I that stain on your conscience?
Sitting stubbornly at the margins of your reality?
Am I the memory that refuses erasure?
The wretched of the Earth?
The wound on your soul?
BY LOVEMORE CHIMALIRO
