Cry of the golden rose

13 May, 2018 - 00:05 0 Views
Cry of the golden rose

The Sunday Mail

Khulekani Ndlovu, Form 4
Marondera High School

I weep for myself, the golden rose from Marondera

My voice has become faint and no one is willing to hear

I plead for myself, the golden rose, from the East to the West

For my knees have rested on the ground but won me no mercy

A curse was once sung upon my seed by wicked eagles

But I germinated and soils parted for me to sprout to the surface

The skies mocked my weak roots and hid their blessings

But I watered myself with the rivers of my naked eyes

The sun frowned at my fragile leaves so that they would fall

But I coiled my leaves, and hid my golden face inside

Now I am a fresh lustrous golden rose, bred by Mother Nature herself

I have fought for myself and conquered, myself

But now the King has returned to pluck out my golden petals

The same way he plucked out the heart of my father

And gave it away for the beaks of the vultures to plunder

I have pleaded for him to spare me but my voice proved inaudible

He dragged me to the core of his hut and depressed my freedom

I was dressed in rusted chains, chains of fatal injustice

I wept and wept till my tears ran dry and my petals went pale

I sat there in the emotional prison, behind bars of bitterness

I peered through cracked walls, and asked if Mother Nature could bail me out

I would look into streams of rays, beaming through the thatched roof

I wanted to ask God why I lived but knew that I wasn’t offended by the one above

I was offended by the beast, crawling on the stomach of the earth with wicked legs

I was dressed in beads, the royal attire, as the beast’s bride

Seeing his face every day reminded me of unsolved grudges

All I wanted was to tear him into numerous shreds

I have to fight again, and put my thorns in use

I am a child of nature and cannot be dared by its fruits

From the golden rose to the black rose

My inner volcano of vengeance has erupted and the lava floods

I have worn an amour of ignorance

I have crowned myself with thorns of wickedness

Slowly I smile as I brew alcohol for the king

And add a pinch of my gold poison into the sips

Very soon it will be over, as I am murdering him slowly

I am tired of crying, I am fed up of abuse

Yes I am the golden rose with black thorns

Treat me right, you will love my colour

Anger me and my thorns will make you suffer

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