The Hunted

Dedicated to all those who are suffering persecution in Zimbabwe

am now
the hunted

dark eyes
all around me
have made me

I have walked
the banks
of the Zambezi

a white man
with hard
calloused hands

I have brought life
from the fields and sun

my children have swam
in the rivers
and slept under blankets
of African violet

Over the years
I have seen my own skin
turning brown under
the years of sun
and work

But I am at last
the hunted
and the view from my porch
is waiting danger

I have become food
for a monster of hate
and child
into cinders
of smoking rage

Behind my truck
I can see
that the farm
is burning

and I grip the trigger
of my gun
as we descend into
the undergrowth
laced with darkness
and with invisible
shouting voices
all around us.

Neil Myers
E-Mail: Neil