A poem by Tafadzwa Chiwanza
Jack’s tale kept wiggling its tail
diverting attention from its missing limps.
But silence in the shape of an axe
dangled above the story’s neck:
“Tell us why we are here Jack!”
Candles on the candelabra burned out
forming waxy mountains around their feet,
Yet no pair of eyes cast a fleeting glance
on the wax to leave Time to tell the tale:
“Cheap slogans won’t cut it this time Pal!”
Jack glared at the mic for over an hour,
As if the thing had swallowed his voice.
He felt darkness grow heavy on his eyes,
And could no longer see what he wanted to say,
Funny, but had he laughed, they would’ve made him pay.
The blind had removed their blinders,
and were finally demanding answers.