Your father
Your father
is a man in a red beret
1983
Carrying a rifle
a bayonet affixed
blood dripping
A belly slit open.
Your father
is the man in the red beret
trained in Korea
there is blood
and hair
on his boots
An old man’s head
kicked in.
Your father
carries a smoldering gun
the villagers lie dead
They said
they don’t know
were the dissidents are
Your father is the man
in the red beret
forcing the villagers to sing
as they dig mass graves
for their mothers, fathers…
Your father’s stiff thing
burned into me
at age fifteen:
To emphasise his conquest
he whispered his
name into my ear
as I lay writhing in pain.
Your father
now an army captain
27 years ago
Chopped Mkhluli to pieces
the boy
not a Dissident
who had made
my loins
burn with desire
Your father
27 years ago
gunned down a mere shopkeeper
for being a dissident
Your father
was the man in a red beret
who extinguished
all feelings
of love
of desire
of hope.
Bitterness
hatred
and despair remain.
Your father
was the man in a red beret
who killed everything
in his path,
including chickens and goats.
© Mgcini Nyoni 2010