Every morning

I pass by the frayed tin shack

adjacent to a double storey brick red mansion

that belongs to my beloved mother.

Every morning

old Taabu at the shack, in raggedy sack clothes

Implores me for a morsel, of what would be my ten o’clock

bread which I give to him… pithily

Like all mornings; four years on

mother prayed for the old man today

that the good Lord may have mercy

and provide him with food and shelter.

© Namunyu Molenje