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Elders tell me the battle of 1992 was something else,
All I remember is the yellow sadza, I was there, nonetheless.
The scars I have are from the 2007-8 battle,
I can’t imagine anything worse.

I wouldn't wish my experiences, then, on my worst enemies.
I have badges & trophies, medals & memories I would rather not possess.

I am not resilient, I am not strong at all, as many suggest,
I am just powerless.

I see the tell tale signs of another one coming,
My heart is beating, I am sweating, I am anxious.
I am not prepared despite all my experiences in these battles.
The battles for dignity,
The battles for livelihood,
The battles for three square meals.

I am just a Zimbabwean.
Zimbabwe is a country somewhere in Africa. I love my country, but my GVT and I are in a complicated situationship.
Thane of the Glamis Arena
Doyen of constitutionalism
Chikara che Zanu
The villager who dared to challenge,
Hope-monger, democrat,
Courageous fighter,
Patriot to the core,
Always leading from the front.

With intolerance on the rise you stood up
When incompetence grew you spoke up
When inflation turned to hyper you jumped in,
and tamed it.
When fear became the air,
you eyeballed it.
Yours is the courage of legions,
they will sing of your name for generations,
To your remembrance, they will build monuments.

I send a humble request to the heavens,
a whisper on the wings of the winds,
may the gods grant you more,
More health! More years! and More strength.
Get well soon Captain Courageous.
From the ashes like the proverbial phoenix,
it don't matter how many times you've been burned,
for Maya says still you must rise.
Down trodden,
failed plenty times, laden,
still you should refuse to bite the dust,
the resurrection is painful, bit by bit and never fast.

Society is up there with the hammer, the fake wig,
without hearing your side of the story- the complete story,
it judges,
never should you despair at the sentence,
take a deep breath and as long as you still can,
you do stand a chance,
success is never about one shot brilliance,
failure is part of the equation
if you work out the mathematics.
In the beginning there was neither shape nor form nor light,
yet a path was forged and gods were made false or true wrong or right,
empires have risen and fallen,
doctrine and propaganda awash like pollen,
full of stories, sometimes stolen,

So ugly was our beginning
that our aftermath promises the same,
always at war albeit with different names,
the dream of peace deferred further to a future that is shady.
From a distance its a spectacle, though ugly,
constant quarrels like babies,
going back and forth skirting the issues,
'cause of the length of time we are now at harmony with our chaos, so occupied no longer stopping to count the our daily loss.
Given this rate I fear a return to the shapeless beginning in the shady aftermath.
Weep not child,
though thy hopes and great expectations
seem to be shattered by the wretched of the earth
and the recurrent harvest of thorns,
I beseech thee- weep not child;

life hath tossed you away,
feel how lonely it is at the deep end?
you are in the midst of hard times,
perilous, treacherous;
Even as the valiant capitulate and yield
remain a true son of the soil,
till the land
and keep on waiting for the rain,
I beseech thee- weep not child;  

The rain will come with the arrow of God,
straight and honest it will lay bare their chambers of secrets, destroy their names and their things;
with all their pride and prejudice,
they will no-longer be at ease,
as their names and things fall apart,
be ready child,
for we will need new names new things,
so weep not child,
this is God's case, no appeal.
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