ARTIST: MUFARO KUMADIRO
MATERIALS USED: PENCIL
Who would have thought of the coming of a such a season like this when one has to shut themselves indoors for them to be safe? A season when our social practices have to be revised and we, can no longer embrace or shake hands with our loved ones in order to stop the spread of the pandemic. A monster that nationalizes my sound sleep And incorporates my dreams into a nightmare.
It’s a mental rape case! I’m no different from an animal Incarcerated within four walls A prisoner in my own home Marred by fear as it knocks on my door Trepidation has become a constant visitor A virus wrecking rampage, invading my limbo Catapulting my mental being into a state of chaos I’m plummeting in an abyss As I plunge into a dark pool of depression My thoughts are scattered, The sadness and boredom of lockdown have helped unlock my padlock of aesthetics.
The beauty of the art of writing and imagery But then again! I’m no longer able to construe meaningful art I can’t manage to make metaphors and similes jump in line to convey my thoughts As the train tracks of my mind just rumble on and on I constantly fail to make rhyme schemes get their act together for the proverbial masterpiece I try to paint with words. I feel hopeless Everything feels meaningless My heart is burning and melting deep in my core. I’m trying to ignore the feeling and brush it aside But I’m a shipwreck hurting inside l have lost my stride My vision is out of sight Covid19 is a real social vice I have lost touch with the real world with all it’s might The virtual world has wrapped its tentacles around humanity I am choking!
The vice grip is making me a slave to my phone and laptop Fully dependent on social platforms for a drop of inspiration To engage with the world and be able to write again every day I am reminded that there is a disease out there A real threat to humanity And the indefinite days of lockdown bear down on me Like excess weight, they make me gravitate towards boredom The mighty pen has become a menace Mocking the hopelessness of my futile attempts There will come a time when the real world is in my grasp Not out of reach As I write this I’m attempting to purge myself of the demons of living in the claustrophobia of our time. I remain hopeful of the days to come.