Sister, sister
They tried VaRungu’s medicine,
gave her herbs crushed into powder, mixed with water.
They boiled bark, roots and leaves,
cooked smooth rocks of Runde
in salted and peppered water
and made her drink the broth;
they lugged sacks of nameless
minute bones from Binga diviners,
sprayed salted holy water from ZCC prophets.
But no shrub stirred in Mazvihwa; no pumpkins budded,
only zero dreams of crackling cries piercing dawn
as the possesed winds of Muringi and Madzvovera
wailed and scraped clean
the road to divorce and disaster.
© Emmanuel Sigauke 2008
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