His eyes bleed from all the years he has held back his tears.
He wants to turn back the hands on life’s clock
But his hands have been weathered by verbal atrophia
From those who have time and time again whipped his soul
With self claimed expertise that has bathed him in salt puddles
Of fear that are rumoured to heal but eat up the left over
Manly confidence that his soul tries to suckle from for survival.
Frank Malaba™ © 2012
4 thoughts on “Africa, My Father”
now what more can i ask for when Zim has such beautiful writes u are on yo own league
Thank You Nomah. I am humbled by your words. Please look out for more of my work. I shall be published soon. Bless.
Your words reach to the very being of my soul. The wisdom and reality that are exposed in your writings is uplifting and give me hope for a better world where all are accepted as members of the human family regardless of religion, race, sexuality, etc… Thanks for sharing Frank…
Trev, Thank you for your words… I am humbled by them. I look forward to meeting you in a few weeks when I set foot on New Zealand soil.
Bless… Much Love.