Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Good morning Nelson; our 
imprisoned hope
Yesterday, in a darkened cell I 
thrived
Firmly manacled by apartheid 
sorrowful rope
And torture upon torture I was 
served.
When shall our freedom come?

Your sufferings I have tasted a 
bit
And felt the chains of sorrow 
on your hands.
When dreaded darkness in my 
cell hit
In fear and weariness I could 
not stand
When shall our freedom come?

I was mocked by cockroaches 
and numberless ants
That paraded on my body as 
they pleased.
In my ears they made their 
painful rants
And silent tears assembled in 
my eyes
Is freedom coming tomorrow, 
oh Nelson?

For I see beneath your sad 
wrinkles
A smile reserved for tomorrow
When freedom's olive oil shall 
be sprinkled
Among us all to happily wallow,
When freedom comes 
tomorrow.

During apartheid regime in 
South Africa, it was common 
among South Africans to stand 
in front of Nelson Mandela's 
portrait and lament their 
ordeal. They asked the portrait 
some touching questions like: 
Is our freedom coming 
tomorrow? Shall we ever be 
freed? I have same Mandela’s 
old portrait and any time I look 
at it, the sad events of those 
days fill my memory. 

For Sydney Leeann’s picture 
frame contest

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