Dear Mr President

This is an open letter to His Excellency
Hoping you find it in your heart to have liniency
With all due respect and all protocol observed sir
I hope this letter finds you well
For my heart is just about to swell
I really wish I could extend more courtesies
Maybe even give you a little curtsy
But this letter serves to inform you that
This lockdown, has me thrown down
What was meant to avoid a state of emergency
Has instead put me in a state of urgency

Relevant as the lockdown maybe, my finances are relevantly locking me down you see
Dauntingly claustrophobic these walls
Have me feeling like a delinquent, locked up freedom relinquished
Deep in my feelings on that Akon vibe, disturbia is slowly doing the pata pata jive
The pit-pat of my heart a steady reminder I’m alive
While I abide in my lowly abode
All fifty something shades of bored
This is something like Tracy Chapman’s Mr Jailor to the kids, who just want to be free and chasing pavements
I understand that all you are trying to do is flatten the Covid 19 line
But do you understand that you are flattening my lifeline
No income coming in, our meager savings going under cardiac arrest
You pulled out the IV, there is no hustle
These streets have lost that bustle

Dear Mr President, I am couped up in the lions den with nothing but this pen
Up close and personal with Lucifer’s cousin, forcefully making dozens
He derives his pleasure from my pain
My bruises a map marking the next spot in which he will break my bones
A reminder when I look in the mirror that I am a bug he can just crush
I am his to give none peace
Silence is golden, my bloody mouth is heavy laden
Stay in the safety of your homes you say
But did you bother to check how safe these homes really are?
I am locked up safely with my abuser
My only comfort pills and potions
A users concoctions
Completely stranded in world war three
My sanctuary a field mine screaming not free
every tentative step might just be my last breathe
No one to scream take cover, no shield, just a battlefield
I guess every war has casualties
Misfortune favored me

Dear Mr President, thank you for addressing the nation
The ones with roofs over their heads and a place to sleep
They will gladly stay in their homes sheltered from the cold
For me whose home is as old as time, the vast skies
The shelter I have is the shadows of the night
Game of thrones is what I am playing with this pandemic
The night is dark and full of terrors
And in this time of panic so is the bright morning light
Wash hands, sanitize, self- isolate
What on God’s green earth does that mean for me
To me who leans upon the street signs?
Whose pillow is cold hard concrete, the stars in the sky the only cover availed
Homeless, hopeless, soap less

Dear Mr President, while we are fighting the war against Corona together
We your people, your nation are fighting so many other demons, in this self made prison
lockdown will bring self made death to the masses anyway
HIV, AIDS, TB, Malaria, Dysentry and hunger didn’t get the memo to stay at home
We are now just safely tucked away for our lives to be more neatly plucked away
Dear Mr President we have just put a target on our most vulnerables’ backs
Death is calling either way
It knows us by name, this is no game
It is coming for us in every way

Mr President, I am Mfumukazi, the word medium. My ancestors sent me to speak for their people. Hear their cries…


A piece written in commemoration of the Worls Creativity and Innovation Day under the theme; Creativity in a time of crisis.

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