Estranged Fruit

​In my motherland, gay people are worth a pile of dry leaves. Their heads are cracked open like water melons and their hair thrown everywhere like steamers and confetti. Their voices are drowned by the crows that pluck their eyes out for breakfast while good people do nothing. Kings order death and destruction upon them like pawns on an incomplete chess board. I am of that branch but alien to the tree. I know for certain that my fruit is worth much and can sweeten the sour taste that many have come to know. I am off that tree but not of the ground it bestrides. I am love untarnished. 

Frank Malaba©2016

Published by: Frank Malaba

Frank Malaba is an actor, playwright and a published poet. He was born in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe and currently resides in Cape Town, South Africa. He has performed on stage and television in both countries. He has a passion for using poetry, storytelling and theatre as a method of healing for both himself and others. His poetry has been presented both at home and abroad. Frank is currently developing a two-man play entitled “Broken Pathways” which will be touring internationally. In 2014 Frank was recognised by Mail & Guardian's 200 Young South Africans as an Achiever in the category of Arts & Culture.

Categories Poetry4 Comments

4 thoughts on “Estranged Fruit”

  1. Beautiful so sad, so true, so frightening in its truth ….but we must fight this fear, and stand up, keep those fires of truth burning!

    Like

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