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Our fathers never came back

Our fathers never
Returned from the
City of gold

They transformed into
Rocks deep in the
Underbellies of
The gold mines

Some turned into
The rusty corrugated
Iron and rotting wood
Of their shacks
They called home
Away from home

Others are now
Empty beer crates
They sat on at
Sis beauty’s shebeen
While they drank
Sorghum beer to drown
Memories of the life
They once knew

Here at home
Our mothers are slowly
Drowning in the
Floods of their own
Tears, just holding
On for dear life,
To life for the sake
Of their children
And dignity they
Keep floating

As for us,
We are left
Carrying the burden
Of the sins of
Our fathers while
We stand on street
Corners puffing our
Blues away.

Siphiwe Hlongwane enjoyed reading and writing as a teenager. He used to write such good essays at school so much that he became a go to person for his classmates when it came to compositions and essays. His teachers encouraged him to study journalism as a career but his grandmother couldn’t afford the fees. He is now an avid reader of poetry and he uses writing as a form of healing and letting out his deepest thoughts and emotions. He wishes to publish his work one day and teach others to use the power of the pen and paper for self expression.

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