At the Gate

Julius Chingono

Africa, Zimbabwe

I had travelled a
long way
without smelling gunpowder.
You were only a fence
from me, yet far,
for we arrived
when the gate was closed.

No one was going in
no one was coming out.

After a night in the bus
I returned to work
laden with those gifts,
laden with a sore heart.

But I knew
the war closed the gates
but not your heart.