Carry His Spirit to a New Zimbabwe
I lie beside my brother
In the glaring mountains
Of my countryside
He looks at me
Eyes swollen
Buttocks fried
“Some men did it.
Said I belong to a party they don’t like,” he whispers

This sight alone plants my
Future in front of me

“Take me home,” he pleads
I try
But there is nowhere to touch
his flogged body
and hold it.
I try
With bare hands
To lift him
his pain is my pain
Zimbabwe, our pain.
God knows where it will end
They might drive it the direction they want
Our future seeks another route.

I softly lift my brother
in his bloodied shirt
Like the flag
of my
I lift him home
My brother
With all my love
His spirit rises to a new Zimbabwe.