Ashes of Majengo

In the heart of corrugated dreams,

where tin roofs clink with whispered screams,

Majengo stood—fragile, unarmed,

a tapestry of lives, now charred.

Flames danced in cruel defiance,

their orange tongues in fiery alliance,

devouring wood, iron, and bone,

leaving despair where hope was sown.

The night split open, a wailing choir,

as mothers clutched their young to the fire.

Smoke braided with prayers, unanswered cries,

beneath a sky of indifferent eyes.

Ashes now kiss the ground like snow,

each speck a story, each ember a soul.

Dreams dissolve in the choking air,

grief’s heavy hand leaves no room to spare.

Who shall mourn for Majengo’s dead?

For the child who wept on a borrowed bed?

For the builder who labored under the sun,

only to see his life undone?

Majengo burns, and so does our shame,

a city’s neglect now etched in flame.

But will the embers whisper, or scream,

when tomorrow wakes from its haunting dream?

©Bunguswa™