Battling darkness

Standing there watching;
Watching the skies darken
With soot and smoke,
Staining Blacker than the crows cawing
In the night surround.
Watching dreams die
In the heat that could be felt
In the mindless screams of men.
Of women. Of despair all around.
Standing there numb,
Numb with disbelief.
As the stall she had:
Had set her heart on,
In the fire burning hot,
Became one with the ground.
Morning dawned:
With lightning streaking the skies,
Thundering with the wailing of sirens
Bringing puny hoses. Expecting
To quench the heat
-The fury- of dying dreams.
…
Morning dawned:
With the breaking skies Pouring
Forth in torrents of fresh floods. Drenching
The flames. Quenching them. With the clean scents of heaven
Forming splintering rivers kissing her feet,
Bringing her all that she had
In the tin box that remained. It’s charred exterior protecting
Her solid memory of why;
She dreamed, she hoped, she strove.
Sewn on the table cloth passed down two generations
Her mother’s mantra, her heart’s song;
‘From ashes, we shall rise’.
And the sun broke from behind the clouds.

–

This poem by Rachel Kunihira won second prize in the 3rd BN annual Poetry award, 2011. She won 300 USD and autographed copies of poetry by prolific poets including  Unjumping by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

THE HUSTLER

He roughly pushes through the populous kikubo lane.

The titanic load on the head sinking his neck into his torso forcing his body to dwarf.

“Fasi..Fasi…”his mouth cries hoarsely, his tougue licking riverets of sweat off his hard

Muscled face. His rapid pace slows, at the bounds of the thick crowd, his eyes blindly staring at the shoes of those in front of him, waiting hopefully for them to give space.

A sharp pain cut into his left ear like water puffed through the nose

The rhythmical throbbing of his heart climbing to the head                                                                                         he felt hot. So hot that it hurt….

His blood boiling at an increased degree.

His head pounding hard as it swayed upfront and back.

“A voice was calling….”

His hands weakened letting loose of the load, suddenly his head felt heavy as his whole body slipped away from his will to reach his destination,

“Aim not going to be paid…..”His mind concluded.

He felt his head thinning, separating from the load at the jet of his breath as he fell on top of his face.

Nakisanze Segawa, 3^rd winner BNPA 2010, under the theme Money and Culture. She won 100 USD and autographed copies of poetry by prolific poets including  Unjumping by Nambozo Nsengiyunva