The other day I met a man named Moses,
He showed me liberation on the streets.
We spoke in turns,
As he carved, I hunched over on the ground and listened.
There were no animals,
Or images he’d dreamed of seeing.
They were his inflictions,
History.
His carvings made up his troubled days and dark nights.
He carved and carved.
As he moved along the song begun,
He allowed me inside,
And it became ours.
He told me that music had touched him
With every note.
I long to feel the same.
He asked me at what age confidence was taught,
And that he doesn’t think he made it that far.
I told him it was just a feeling that had grown inside of me.
Women, he said,
You are the top!
Moses’ mother never let go,
She never gave up on herself,
Now she was a Mother of the Revolution.
The beautiful struggle that my Mother fought, he said,
Was for my land,
My soul,
I let it go.
How could a prophet let a dream go?
Just like people had let their lives fade away,
Moses had surpassed what he could have had,
What could have been.
When you fight,
You fight for everyone,
There can be no selfish fighter,
They have no chance.
You do it for your mother, he said,
For our land,
For a collective identity,
That you were born into.
His name had meaning,
Deep rooted in tales of the times people live by,
Every single day,
Passion.
Your roots,
Are you.
Legacy was created,
To be continued,
Passed down,
And pushed forward.
Filled with an image of a time before Christ,
I rejoice in his name,
The image that goes along with a time before Christ is strong.
Is it something inside of you?
How did my mother know how to be a revolution, he asked.
Imposing, implementing, pushing,
Hurts.
You have to take a step in,
To help get everyone else out.
Harare was wherever Moses went,
His epicenter
His city of change
He was always on edge,
And Harare would appear.
So life happens,
It goes on and on.
Clouds move and days roll
Time flies so you can soar.
Moses reminded me about loneliness,
How it can not be a fear.
State of mind,
It’s all what you make of it.
I know what I met him,
Everything has a reason,
He’d never heard of Zimbabwe
Or even had the words come out of his both.
What Moses shared
Was just as important,
He expanded my lens.
Moses opened my space.
By Cherice Tearte
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