By Collen Kajokoto

Lord, to whom we belong,
Loaded to whom we return,
With a once cute dimple
Now sore with a pimple.
Since birthed out of sin
This calamity is not seen
We shouldn’t barely accuse
To gain shameful excuse,
Who wit always to rightfully walk?
Therefore,fool us not in talk,
Trump chastens  Prodigal  Who
And Who blemishes Trump!
How under decaying sun,
A cracking ageless sky
We submit to bedpan baptism
At the foot of our bed?
The toxic discord will acquire
Confusion akin singing to a choir.
Moons many we h’d wars,
Presently we lean fragile walls.
Between take off and arrival,
In ambush awaits the rival.
How we are lost Somewhere
Yet we never drifted Nowhere?
The weary succumb in orphanage
As they dwindle in body and offerage .
We breakfast no egg yolk
The baker shut in New York,
Annexed we are in Paris,
We gather not in parish
Lest we all but perish.
Rome cathedrals gold rooftops
Now toilets for pigeons,
Merciful Lord, hear our desire,
Promote COVID-19 to retire!

**Collen Kajokoto is a Harare based persecuted protest poet .