Hona Mhamha, Ndachena

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Shingi Mavima

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Hona Mhamha, Ndachena
Said infant child, chubby cheeks beaming with pride
With tiny bow tie stringed clumsily around his collar
To irritated mother whose warm, insistent smile would not be denied
Down on her knee, hurriedly readying boy child for the light of day
Said same boy the same words, although seasons had passed by
With a bag bearing books and dreams flung flimsily onto his turned back
Skipping away, in denial or unaware, blind to mother's teary eyes
Toward the horizon, in pursuit of promises oft unknown
Moons flew through, new books grew worn
Yet one rite still stood, woman hunched over shoulder
Of boy child, smug faced, of her womb born
Beautiful and pure as when she held his tiny hand first
Hona Mhama, Ndachena
His limbs grown of the years, oak-like and strong
And dark glistening bristles sprouted across his face
She watched at the door, lest he wears his buttons wrong
Her prince would be king, the heavens swore of it
He stood, nerves waging joyful war on his mind
Next to a beautiful other, draped in pristine white
While mother, aged and graceful, sat and watched from behind
Still shedding the proud tears of many moons ago
Alas, he inherited those tears this very morn
While she lays in eternal slumber, her prince now crowned
He leans upon foreboding box, kisses she of whose womb he was born
And whispers, for the last time
The three worded prayer by which they are forever bound
Hona Mhamha, Ndachena

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