A man crossed my kales garden

In the morning -

At noon,

And traversed across again

In the evening;

I got sick of his antics and traits.

My neighbors’ child once

Splashed muddy waters,

Dirtying -

My polished leather shoes

Again -

My white calico sheet

Became a victim,

Then my walls, my doors

And my everything.

I began growing ulcers

I remember a day

A long one after hustles and bustles;

Half way on the zebra crossing

A motorist came by -

Riding high, honking and clogging

And finally found myself

Lying prostrate on the road.

I developed a serious headache

Then I saw an etiquette figure -

Rose to speak;

boasting of his tribe superior

Demeaning my race

And ridiculed the origin of my face.

I felt nausea

There was a time

When I went to get a present

For my girlfriends birthday,

It was a golden bracelet -

Yet when I got home,

It was a piece of rope;

I had been corned

I suffered a heart attack.

Enough was enough,

I was sick of trespasses

And got an AK 47

To settle scores;

Thought had gotten a cure

But exploded the world wars

With the first spilling to the second

The initiation of the civil wars

With child soldiers in Sierra Leone

The cry of helpless women

In Liberia, Angola, Somalia, Sudan

Eruption of post election violence

From Nairobi and the hinter world

Suicide bombings in the Far East

rise of Hitters and Idi Amins

And progression into weapons of mass

Destructions

All in the name of a cure

And now I hold pieces of the world

In my hands.

©Mwana Nakadhalika