THE QUEEN'S RAINDROPS
Far off in the future once upon—
A lone mbulu feather blown-swirl by the wind
gently lands on the might-peak of a Hill.
There and near; an old, dry-lipped man with an
antique stick sat beside me look-staring
at the night sky.
His tired voice had left him in the dark years
and days and deeds before.
The night was silent like the worlds beyond.
Nothing moved except the breath in our lungs.
Murmurs floated only in mind—
And not a jitter was observed in there.
Only one soul was elsewhere in that
moment mist—
Sequestered in forbidden grounds.
The long suns had guttled what hollow life remained.
Yet the face of the forest moved, slowly still,
as the old man told all to turn a blind eye.
Deep in it, a flame soared into the air;
Far and there, the tilting trees were seized
with terror.
And the dry, cracked sands quivered
as the pregnant clouds assembled.
None had seen what despair they left behind.
I turned my head to see the Balobedu dance;
In all their cheer, only one word they
uttered far to the falling rain—
“Modjadji!”
Bonganí Zungu threads his words with the intent to reveal the subtle sophistry of knowledge and what he believes to be a hidden expanse of human experience beyond just love in a very simple yet relatable way. With excellent manipulation of flow, and seamlessly woven descriptions, his poems touch on a number of themes guided by life experiences, investment in knowledge, awareness of changing times, and a strong sense of imagination.