I saw a man on the roof of the house,
The roof was on the ground,
Its walls were debris on the floors.
I saw him bleeding ridiculously,
Breathing for the least help he could get.
But that help was deaf; it could not perform.
He died with a heart of vengeance and unfulfilment.
I saw men under the bridge, in the waters.
The bridge was lump; it had fallen into the waters.
Burying the men beneath its steel bars.
I saw hopeless droplets bubbling to the surface as they sank,
Fighting to conquer the battle for freedom.
They died, droplets of compound air reflecting redemption.
I saw men on the ground.
The ground as if a war front on a battlefield.
I saw them all exposed to the face of the sun,
The sun roasting the final breath and blood of our warriors.
I saw them all in their camouflaged integrity.
Brave enough to lift the last sword, to fire the last bullet.
Brave still, they succumbed to the weakness of their arms.
They died tragic deaths, leaving us an independent, peaceful Zimbabwe.
I did not hold the AK47 in my hands,
I did not aim the bow and arrow at them,
I did not run on my knees to kill them all.
There are heroes that deserve to be acknowledged.
I did not fight the war.
There are fathers that dared bullets and insults,
While I hid myself in bins and drums.
There are mothers that dared hold hot steel and burning plastic,
Whilst I conceived in the prospect of their bellies.
The mujibas, the chimbwidos struggled wisely,
With the faith of feeding hope for a victory one day,
And this day has been found proper to be reviewed and thanked.
Happy Independence MaDzimbahwe! ! !
Ishe komborera Zimbabwe!