Gedicht
Charles Mungoshi
IOWA WIND
IOWA WIND
IOWA WIND
freezing cold nightonly the continuous
eerie screech-buzz whistling
of the wind
sawing away at the eaves.
(that long-ago heard before ghostliness
the more chilling for being
so familiarly unfamiliar)
I didn’t hear the shots
but I am haunted by a voice
endlessly calling across millennial distances
unheard,
till, exhausted, it drowns and falls lost
in the depths of the vast silence of the snow.
© 2008, Charles Mungoshi
Publisher: First published on PIW in a special Zimbabwean edition, 10th June 2008,
Publisher: First published on PIW in a special Zimbabwean edition, 10th June 2008,
(Following the shooting of the four professors at the University of Iowa on 1 November 1992 by a failed science student)
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Gedichten van Charles Mungoshi
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IOWA WIND
freezing cold nightonly the continuous
eerie screech-buzz whistling
of the wind
sawing away at the eaves.
(that long-ago heard before ghostliness
the more chilling for being
so familiarly unfamiliar)
I didn’t hear the shots
but I am haunted by a voice
endlessly calling across millennial distances
unheard,
till, exhausted, it drowns and falls lost
in the depths of the vast silence of the snow.
(Following the shooting of the four professors at the University of Iowa on 1 November 1992 by a failed science student)
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