Pushing A Loadful Of Sin Poem by Job Ombati

Pushing the cart uphill,
men sweat.
A defiant fly ducks into
the malodorous armpits
but leaves befuddled.
Only to repeat
-on and on-
they push.
A heavy load of matoke
ngwace, miwa and a
drowsy chicken.
A cache of heavy sins each carries
In the secret enclaves of their hearts.

They push the cart uphill.
With heads bent in benediction.
Thinking of lost chances
Silently cursing.
They can't save.
After all what is there to save?

The cycle is repeated.
A visit to Mama Pima.
-whose other part is Aisha-
under the dirty trench coat of the night.
Emerge wiser, but only for a few hours.

Pushing a loadful of sin.
Up the hill.
To unspecified
destinations of the heart.
Each in resigned hope
Sentenced to life failure.
In a cell whose keys were dropped into the open sea.
Conscripted for sins of youth.
Like a bad apple
bit, held and spit in foul indignation.

They push the cart on.
Their feet pawing the hot asphalt.
The trudge is on.
One foot raised after the other.
Hitting the road with sadistic rhythm.
Teeth tightly clenched.
Gullied hands
scoop off the salty
stingy stormy
torrent.
Leaving sedimentary lime on their pitch black faces.
And the hill hump lazily beckons them on:
Come yee heavy laden,
Yea souls shall be refreshed.
And in suppliant gesture,
the adamant cart
wheels on.
Poems for Humanity