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I once saw a sage on his way to the end. He walked with a stiffened limp, his staff striking forward, then back, probing the earth. Each step was a trial, his adamant feet arguing their lost case against ankles folded in age. Then he stopped and wondered: how could his tremoring palms, always stacked between his head and his staff, lift a hammer against his grandchild? Between short breaths, he labored to catch distant memories; still he recalled, he once roamed on two, but none had called him murderer. © Hamilton Chikhala 2026
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Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 2:17 AM UTC
Body On Trial
I once saw a sage on his way to the end. He walked with a stiffened limp, his staff striking forward, then back, probing the earth. Each step was a trial, his adamant feet arguing their lost case against ankles folded in age. Then he stopped and wondered: how could his tremoring palms, always stacked between his head and his staff, lift a hammer against his grandchild? Between short breaths, he labored to catch distant memories; still he recalled, he once roamed on two, but none had called him murderer. © Hamilton Chikhala 2026
Body on Trial reflects the struggles of the elderly, particularly in Malawi and some other African countries, where many older people are unfairly accused of witchcraft. These accusations are baseless, yet they lead to social persecution, fear, isolation, and in some tragic cases, brutal killings. This poem explores the tension between the physical fragility of age and the unjust judgment imposed by society, showing the quiet dignity and humanity of those who are often silenced or misunderstood.
HamiltonChikhala
Written by
35/M/Malawi
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 2:17 AM UTC
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