By Masimba Mukichi.
She is in the middle of nowhere
Lonely as the sun, confused as a demon
She sits under the sycamore tree,
in the pattering thrum of rain.
She touches her pregnant belly,
but can’t feel her baby’s heartbeat.
It’s in the dead of night, dark than coal
Strange shadows walkabout in the dark.
Ghostly voices sing and shriek close by.
The smell of death feels the air
Hyenas laugh as she shivers and drips urine,
waiting for death’s hug, to settle her fate.
Her vanity is gone, hope dashed.
Across the sea, the bright lights of Calais gleams,
Misery engulfs her, she thinks aloud:
If I wash up on the shores of Calais will my baby be saved?
Will I make it to Britain or it’s a giant leap into the dark?
I once had bread, but now a pauper
Once had a husband, but the harsh desert claimed him
Oh dear, I’m at a dilemma and in despair
Oh, hear I’m dying, I will never be found.
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