In the rising hopes
Of the morning
When the robin
Greets the new day
With melody and chirp
And the painted sky
Delights the soul
And warms the land;
When the wise and the poor
Exchange civilities
And innocent children
Make merry
In the blessing sun;
Call me Stephen.
But
In the sombreness of the night
When the darkness
Smells and exudes evil,
When the hyena’s eerie laughter
Teases death;
And nature’s night sentry
Calls
Whoo, Whoo goes;
When haunting spirits
Connive on my being;
And rob me
Of the poor man’s only gift.
Sleep;
When I see
My father’s hand
Reaching for me
To take me
From this abyss;
I am Ndapota
Harare, 2000