Zakaria Tiberindwa

I am not just a broken piece of Gold

For though I glitter and shine

When you dig deeper and mine

You will find I am a broken piece of glass

Not even a furnace can refine.


I am not just a broken piece of furniture

That you can nail, fix, and so easily align

But a broken piece of a pot

I use to scratch these wounds of mine

Causing a grief I can barely define.


I am not just the broken bread of life

That is dipped in wine

In remembrance of Him who is divine

But the broken branch of a tree

That we call the true vine

And with which I can no longer twine.


I am not just a broken bond

But a broken heart dripping with pain

Slain by a cold-blooded beast

That led me on

Like a lamb to the slaughter house


This beast tore my life

Into pieces of defiled conscience

Alas, it still lives on, like a hungry lion,

Hunting for another of my kind

To break, slaughter, and devour.