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Poetry Pleases: Freedom's Dream In Cell 46664

Masimba Biriwasha, personally aware of the unending anguish of exile from one's homeland, tells of the desire that no dictator can supress - the longing for freedom.

Feebly, the freedom fighter
gazed at the light that beamed from the dream he had carved in his spirit,
In that prison, his dream aimed at fighting manís domination over another still glowed

27 years had passed, and the skin
of the prison cell No. 46664 stank of a
human right denied

The freedom fighter lifted his left fist into the air,
As though seeking heavenís answer,
Cherishing the idea of a free society
In that dark and cockroach-infested space

Deep in his soul he desired to pluck a seed of faith from the skyís womb,
To carry freedom's struggle another day,
And whisper to the winds of time
To plant a fire in his peopleís bosoms
So they could gather courage to rise beyond the confinement
Of man-made chains

In spite of his faith, the heavens remained still
So he put his head down, and tore into the
depth of his guerilla-skin with freedomís spikes,

Then suddenly, his voice cracked and filled the void,
Traversing the gaping distances
Like an angel run amok

Till it reverberated across the mountains and valleys
Of the dictatorís oppressive rule

Our blood jumped hot at the sound of his call
And in our silenced oppression, we found ourselves muttering
vowels of freedom:

"Freedom Now, Freedom Now"

Even though the tyrant's chains remained stuck
Round our necks

The freedom fighter's dream burned deep in our hearts.

Then, one day, the ripples of our hope
Grew into a crest-high wave
That tore through the dictator's barbed walls
And made us believe again
In freedomís cause --

Not just for ourselves
But for all humanity.


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