Three Zimbabawe Poems of Exile

My mind wonders, my feelings hate
To hear the horrors, all night I am haunted
The thorns in their flesh are questions on action
In their miry clay and bottomless pit comfort is too far
Their trials and tribulations no longer mother of endurance
A nation nurtured into pain and persecutions
Tears of sorrows never vanish from their long faces
Thousands like zebra jumping out in search of long denied grass
Crossing rivers contaminated with crocodiles
South Africa seems to sweeten their sorrow
To them, Zimbabwe is just a zombie to flee

Groceries greet me in polar bear fashion
I am an idiotic genius
In a valley of drinks
The shops have bottled so many tongues
Choice knows no boundaries
My eagle eyes begged many questions
My stomach did not understand either
Losing my lunch was normal
Fruits sooth my longing
Kiwi, dates, figs carry me homewards
My bitter reminiscence sweetened by Lancashire cheese
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding embrace me
Food now flows through me like the River Ngezi
The longevity of exile means my
Alveolar ridge has adjusted and my larynx now complies
Yesterday’s food was nutritious
Tomorrow's is junk
The pocket dictates each meal
My journey is like a flipped coin
You never know which way it will land

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Handsen Chikowore is formerly a resident of suburban Harare, Zimbabwe, and is a member of the Methodist Church. He fled Zimbabwe in 2002, "as the freedom of speech has been violated on many occassions." Now living in exile in the United Kingdom, he hopes to return to his native country when the political situation stabilizes. Until then, "I will continue to write as I follow my heart and passion."