If you enjoyed reading Bwalya Kazungo’s poem THE SOUND, then you will also enjoy his second offering: WITH TIME

WITH TIME

By Bwalya Kazungo

Woman of my bone

Flesh of my rib

What is this becoming of you?

Fashions come, fashions go

But this, your fashion is thorny to the eye

Evidently uncomfortable to your flesh

Exposing the once upon a time strippers’ and bitches’ pants your call G-string

Not forgetting the beads we called “chisasa” and the line of your behind

Your breasts constricted

And your top dress a child’s size to kiss-and-tell your belly button and the pubic hair that come with it

Your face painted akin a kindergarten drawing

Like a prostitute caught in the act with another woman’s hubby is your beach coloured hair

Your long tinted fake finger nails like Amanda of Hammer House of Horror

Yes.

Broken down in these contemporary fashions is the corroded morality

Drowned too with it….

Is the moral decadence

Let not our serenity sink into the Western debauchery

Flesh of my rib,

Come out of the boat of false piety

Clear out the air that defiles our cultured fashion

Knot the string that holds tales of our ancestors

Remember,

Your are the soil of my field

To rejuvenate the seed.

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