Heroes
We
Are a nation that sings of heroes gone
Bestow upon them a stone
Write bold flowery epitaphs
Of half truths if not lies
We are
A nation that builds shrines
Make them sacred
Our children see them on NTV footage
Shiny, zero carat graves
Buried in our mind’s caves
We
Aside set a day
To drink away a hero’s life
Dance on the forgotten memories
Filtrating out of our minds
We are a nation that believes
A hero is a fighter, AK47 adorned
Must have marked or smeared our lives with blood
Killed or died to liberate us
We are a nation that must change
See
Other heroes who touch our nerves
Flow in our veins like blood
Like life
Heroes
Who from nothing
Turned pages of words to something
From maBanjo to a Flamenco
Constructing liberating codes of wisdom
Never heard
Heroes
Who dream of filling every home
With a touch of comfort
Keep each one of us in our dancing shoes
Yet remember, to share the dance floor with us
Heroes
Whose poetry is our daily bread
Whose lives speak of endurance
Not flight
Of freedom gained by strife
Melodies written with might
(neria)
Heroes
Whose old strings vibrate
In harmony with our mind and soul
Our bodies gyrating to a symphony
Of orchestrated sound
Heroes
Of flesh and blood like you and me
Who err and try to perfect like you and me
Heroes who like you and me die
Trying to bring change
Make a difference
True heroes who deserve a song
Dancing in the light of moon
Soldiers of art march on
A 40 piece ocherstra salute
To the living legend of our time
Oliver Mtukudzi,
Whose soulful legacy
Is the sun, the smile that graces our days
Even they be mournful.
A twenty one poem salute
To
Julius Chingono
For sharing his memoirs
In a lighter light
I wear The Shoes of a Vagabond
In my heart’s feet
But I know what many souls seek
Simple heroes whose two feet
stay rooted
on the ground.
By Batsirai Easther Chigama
In response to: From Tuku to the fans- 56 years on
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Comments
“Soldiers of art march on, A 40 piece ocherstra salute…” That’s totally classic. Yes, the heroes are the men and women that make life happen in our country. I love this poem.
Yes, our mothers and fathers, our brothers and sisters who know not an AK47 but who know the daily stuggle of putting a plate of sadza in front of each member of an extended family are the true heroes.
I hope one day we can find a way to honour them as a nation.