The Sunday Mail
Munashe Monica Rupazo
Saint Faith’s Boys High
As I remember my remedy in the natural scent of humanity,
I am reminded of the chewed kisses stamped on my forehead applauding my addition to the Zimbabwean population.
I could remember my first time drowned and dissolved in the newness of everything.
However, in reality; I vaguely remember anything at all,
Even to what I touched and felt I can hardly recall faint lines.
I was alien in the world I was born!
Moreover, there was hope in my being.
If Zimbabwe could recall that eventful day at Lancaster House,
I bet Zimbabwe can think of executive joy shared by most.
That day Zimbabwe was born and elated from sucking the fluid, there was hope in Zimbabwe!
The day Zimbabwe vowed to tolerate potential leaders, meticulous to overcome the great terrors of Chimoio,
Walking the long journeys of the shade-less Zambezi-to-Limpopo raining wax,
That day Zimbabwe served rightful for liberty,
Capable of amending frustrated souls and weathered bones sentiment in the Mutapa.
Today Zimbabwe erects as integration indulgent to her own norms and riches that obey.
Ready and already protruding standards and making better the improvements.
Ready and already stepping into her promised land to leave a legacy remembered by all.
A land resourceful that Zimbabwe will move the world toward advanced welfares,
Welfares provided by her own minerals, for Zimbabwe why do they depend on you?
A land full of wisdom, justice and welcoming laws that promote dilapidation to legitimacy.
For Zimbabwe why do they depend on you?
A land promised by ‘God in Heaven’ to prosper, and prosper Zimbabwe shall!
