When The Moon Goes To Rest

“When rumbling guns spit fiery bullets of death A brutal echo of pronounced confused wrath And we scatter across jungles and navigate the intricacies of imposed exile It is for the fatherland that our blood is spilled” –Miyela N’wananga “If only your world and mine could meet And blaze tributary crossings of waters cool and sweet And flowing streams demanding the dexterity of swim And flow like a river and compose song with nature” –Me and You Newspeople took pictures and scribbled Your life consumed by flames At Ramaphosa informal settlement –Ernesto When the moon goes to rest is a collection of poetry, quiet and loud- an attempt at capturing the gains and pains of living!