Summer 2003 • Vol. XXV No. 3/4 Poetry |

Kafwadala

One morning, Kafwadala opened his eyes And lay down to close them again. People came along the village path To view Kafwadala's body, stretched Lifeless across the sandy path. Kafwadala wore a blinkless stare, And his shroud was stiff as folded sheets. Death bestowed on him a certain poise As he lay there, soaking up sunshine. Silence was never deader, and when the tremor cameThe people trembled. "What?!" They murmured, "Is he dead or not? Ah, what a stunt!" Reminded how the courier lizard had cried at dawn, They concluded Kafwadala was dead after all, So the women wailed and stamped their feet. After all had gone, I hid in the woods, Watching the one who had evaded Chiuta. "Yes, Kafwadala, Chiuta would have you, But you, like the beetle that dies many times, More than once shall shed your skin."

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Author of Crackle at Midnight (1998), Messages Left Behind (Brown Turtle Press 2011), and Things Circular (Cissus World Press 20015), Lupenga Mphande has had poems published in Poetry Review and other literary magazines and anthologies, including the Heinemann Book of African Poetry in English, Fate of Vultures, and New Poetry of Africa. He was the 1988 book prize winner of the BBC Art and Africa Poetry Award and is associate professor of African-American and African Studies at Ohio State University.

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One morning, Kafwadala opened his eyes And lay down to close them again. People came along the village path To view Kafwadala's body, stretched Lifeless across the sandy path. Kafwadala […]

Anger of the Lake

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One morning, Kafwadala opened his eyes And lay down to close them again. People came along the village path To view Kafwadala's body, stretched Lifeless across the sandy path. Kafwadala […]

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