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Ignatius Mabasa Epitaph We silently walk to the cemetery We, pallbearers of our own coffin. We used to have a life And an economy Running on dollars and sense. Now we are a graveyard Full of shallow graves Mounds of fresh earth And crooked stick crosses. Ravens disembowel corpses Singing a harsh type of dirge No dignity, no rites, no tears No pastor, no speech, no soil! 15 ...

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