The "Red Hills of Home"

Red Hills have come
With wounds whose pus
Suffocates the peasant.
The peasant's baby sleeps
Knowing only thin dreams of moonlight joy
Dying too are the songs
Of the seasons that father once sang
Red Hills and the smoke of man-made thunder
Plunder the land under contract

"Red Hills of Home", Chengerai Hove, Mambo Press, 1985: Pages
68

This blog's is concerned with the effects of human technological advances, political and other turmoils, and the new ways of life, on the simple but versatile minds of the common man whose innocent and genuine struggle is against the odds that are characteristic at the centre of the Red Hills of Home.