By Brian T. Kalinde
The night mother fell deep in sleep
I crawled to bed with blurred eyes
-and a teary heart.
We shredded a heart that would never build again
Gods’ wrath rained from the dark clouds hanging over us.
As we rolled in dust and pointed guns at our heads,
tortured, hid in shells
Numb as we watched her son bleed.
I remember us in the rains preaching
Hugging cold breezes breathed by earth,
Mumbling politics and the chaos it had birthed.
To whip the young to faraway lands,
Running, from our curse.
We talked about crush-landing and progress in reverse
Presidents signing cheques.
Because the night was scary
We wandered to other stories.
About a city-
a tale I’ll tell mother tomorrow.
she’s been too ill to listen.
But tragedy befell us-we called it such
Like our neighbour and everyone else.
When my brother fell.
The reaper walks in the shadows in the city of life.
That night, chilly like waters in a spring
We fed mum news we couldn’t hold
A bullet and a night had wrestled him out
As boots kicked the carcass onto a bird,
We welcomed a corpse.
In a summer dream.
Brian T. Kalinde holds a Diploma in Insurance (CII). Popularly known as 8Fat-B, he is a poet (@Spoken Word Poetry Blantyre Movement), producer, rapper, and actor (@Zathu Radio Drama). He considers himself a friend. To everyone.