All Things Possible

By Ezilyn Sibanda

This is a fictional work by the author. Some of the articles are based on topical issues and problems that people experience in life situations. Contained in the articles are issues pertaining to moral lessons that can be learned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Sep 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524594671

Ezilyn Sibanda

Ezilyn Sibanda is a social worker by profession, having obtained a diploma and a degree in social work. She has done postqualifying studies in the field of childcare. Ezilyn also obtained a master’s segree in gender and development at the Institute of Development Studies at Sussex University. Her passion for creative writing dates back years. She has, in the past, participated in poetry and creative writing competitions and won prizes. She hopes her readers will enjoy some of her work, herein contained.

Book preview

Running Waters

Run waters, run

Run your way down the stream

For the course was long established

The trek meant only for you

What excuse then do you have but

To take the course and follow the stream.

Run Oh clear crystal waters

Along with you are small aquatic creatures

That love water so

They sing endlessly their song of joy

In the solace of your cool comfort.

Whereto does your journey end

Running waters on a mission?

Why don’t you consider rushing

’Cos time is running out

For soon the soil will get dry

And drier down the stream.

So run faster whilst soil is wet

For once you reach dry ground

The stream course will go on

But you’ll lose the drive and pressure

To move on as you’ve been doing

You’ll sink to feed the water table

Down under the ground.

Farmers will dig you up

When to water their land and plants they need

But see, you’ll have lost your trek

As seaward bound you were

Destined to reach and feed the ocean.

Run on then, run on

For the cretures that you carry

Look to a journey complete

To join other aquatic creatures

In the oceans so deep and blue.

Run on, run on

You’ve got a duty to fulfil

Skirt the green grasses in the stream

Skirt the rocks, pebbles and boulders

As you journey round the mountainside

Look forward, proceed on and journey through

Stop at nothing, move on

To reach your destination.

At the end claim your prize for victory won

For a journey long and tedious

Completed with gratitude and cheer

From the creatures you’ve so

Faithfully carried through

To yours and their journey’s end.

Abandoned for Love

It was very early in the morning, five fifty am to be precise. It was a winter morning, dark and cold. It had just finished raining. Amy was rushing to work at Mrs Ferguson’s house. She worked there three days a week. Work started at 6 am sharp. Mrs Ferguson liked people who kept time. She always told anyone who would care to listen that time was of essence. She was convinced that people who have no regard for time, have no respect for themselves. Now Amy had two houses to pass before reaching Mrs Ferguson’s. She needed to rush.

Then she heard it. It was definitely an infant’s cry. She was just passing Mr & Mrs Green’s house. She stopped to listen again. Yes, she was now sure that the cry came from the Greens house. She peeped through the hedge and she noted that the cry came from the front verandah. There was no mistake about it. Whose baby was crying out there? Why was baby at the verandah during this time of the morning when temperatures were so low? Where was baby’s mum? She hesitated, not knowing what to do exactly. She was aware that she was getting late for work. However, she could not proceed without finding out what was going on in Mrs Green’s verandah. As she had been working for Mrs Ferguson for the past seven years, Amy knew the neighbours and neighbourhood quite well. She knew that at that time of the morning Mr & Mrs Green were still in bed in their second floor bedroom. They would not be aware of what was happening in their front door. Their windows were closed, curtains drawn.

Amy slowly opened the gate and proceeded to the house. The cry became louder as she now approached the verandah. As she came nearer, she saw this tiny face whose body was wrapped in small blankets. There was no one-else with the baby. Amy found it strange that an infant was lying there alone, unattended. She wanted to stoop and pick up the baby but on second thought, decided against that. She thought about Mr & Mrs Green and wondered whether they were at home or were on holiday. She decided to ring the door-bell. After waiting for what felt like a long, long time, Mr Green opened the door looking amazed, having heard baby’s cry when he reached downstairs. Instead of looking at Amy, he looked down where the baby was lying. He looked stunned.

What’s going on? he asked at last facing Amy? Whose baby is this?

"I don’t know. I was just passing by on my way to work at Mrs Ferguson’s house when I heard a baby cry. I peeped but could not see any adult so I entered your gate to see whether everything was