Mourning Afrika

  

With reclining ease her chants and 

sounds created a stampede of twirling lingo and endless lines.

Avocado plains pulsing to the beat of djembe drums

blue yodels cavorting to a 6 stringed bass.

Her womb stirred this cauldron craze birthing a love affair with rhythm and rhyme

A long legged giraffe, resplendent in the salutations of her offspring

Her beauty incomparable, impenetrable,

A Countess decked with garlands,

A queen praised by saplings,    

 earthen groans that pushed forth greatness.                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

“Oh Mama, the wonder of your divine beauty,

you who scrupulously nurtured the pained even in your gloom and affliction,

whose sorrows filled buckets hauled across hills to faraway water coils,

an untamable fire that coursed a rich legacy;

humble eloquence clothed in tailored poise.

Scalloped knees that carve pathways to redemption,

                                                                                            

Mama Mama,  where have you gone?                                                                       

All we now hear is the faint song from a battered heart 

whispered chants from cracked lips and  distended bowel                                             

Thula Mama, please don’t cry 

A crown adorns the headstones of little boys and girls  

the savannah slumbers, it's garment caked with dried tears

Thula mama - iso-jabula - as time goes by 

we sit at your grave and wait

we grovel and groan - we moan in sackcloth and ash

we await your return with the pulse of drums

while we wait we pray,

Thembele ngo bawo  

izintazezo - hamba kahle 

hamba kahle 

hamba kahle

©  Jambiya Kai