25 October 2019

Sonnet for Hannibal, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

We heave skyward with a bolder push
from the broad of our backs,

with Sisyphus’s old boulder
in the way and blood in our tracks.

Our elephants cross the Pyrénées,
reach the limits of Rome, where we fight every
thing we meet, the way
man counts on himself, then head back

to Carthage, losing combatants
and beasts to the elements. We take

nothing except what our opponents
took from us, till the sun soaks back

into us and what we decide to do
is sit, with a smile, and wait for you.

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