September 25th — I invite us to restarţair

Severino Ngoenha"

A poem for the day of the struggle and for the struggle that continues.

Poetry for September 25th.

Twenty-five.

The morning slowly begins to reveal the date again.

like someone calling out to the living

to count how many more are going.

There was a time when the enemy had a face.

He was the colonist, he was the owner of the sweat,

It was the wire that divided the land.

and the ruler that marked the map.

And to defeat him, the courage of each individual was not enough:

We had to be many,

We had to be one.

It was this unit that opened the door,

And none of us opened it alone.

Then the wire fell.

And we stayed.

And the opponent now no longer has a face.

It's not the man who sleeps on the other side of the river,

It's not the other party,

It's not the other tribe, it's not the other ethnic group.

Our adversary now is hunger.

It is poverty that is inherited like a family name.

Violence is becoming normalized among us.

It is discrimination that decides, before we are born,

The place where we will fit.

None of this can be achieved with an enemy in front of you.

because none of this is outside of us.

Let's not fool ourselves about this fight.

The courage we need now.

She neither sings nor parades.

She's more naked than the other one.

because no hymn plays

when you fight against what you are.

And the "I" only has value when it strengthens the "we".

And "us" only matters if it's within each one of us.

so that it can grow fully in its freedom.

And you, who read me with your judgment in hand,

You, who think of me what I think of you,

I'm not asking you to think like me.

I come to ask you for what no speech can replace:

that you sit with me at the same table,

that you let me speak and that you let yourself speak,

until we find that which is neither yours nor mine.

and that, since it doesn't belong to any of us,

It can finally belong to everyone.

Therefore, tomorrow I won't be content with just asking.

What Mozambique has done for me.

I ask aloud, and I answer aloud.

And it is this question that I invite you to consider:

What have I done today with the Mozambique that I have in my hands?

What did I do for the truth, when the truth cost me so much?

What did I do for peace, when I was given reason for war?

What did I do for reconciliation, when the memory still hurt me?

What I did was to build consensus, which is not about silencing anyone.

nor agree with everyone,

But how can we build something that we can say together?

The poor need to feel that it was worth it.

Newcomers need to feel that they matter.

not in the numbers, not in the statistics,

But in life, which is made with everyone's hands.

Twenty-five is not a dead date.

It is the arrow engraved in the stone.

pointing out the path we haven't yet walked.

The fight continues to begin,

And it starts especially on the days when it doesn't hurt.

on days when no one is watching us,

when nobody is applauding.

And all it takes is a fresh start for the country to start over.

I invite us to start again.

2025/12/3