Mandela

FNB Stadium, Johannesburg, on Tuesday, December 10 A tear silently crawled down my cheek As eulogies fall and despair rise to the peak. I see the crowd, the leaders, the well-wishers Here they are gathered like never before- Dark clouds have gathered in the East- Old mounds overturn by the leash. Dusty bones stir in their pale graves While the bells hoarsely knell- Told have been the tales Gone have been the sales of rights and freedoms Through the fight of that man twenty-seven lunar days had his face been hidden pale For the whip's caress And the whiteman's address. The troubles of the world The weeps of the people- The tears that baked their cheeks He stood brave, conquered and freed the newspapers, the radio: "Hero dies aged 95, after a long illness." the remarks of the people: "Was he made for death? Our Mandela!" Dark clouds gathered in the East- Old mounds overturned by the leash. Dusty bones stirred in their pale graves While the bells hoarsely knelled- He freed a humanity He took his brother's strokes Bled for his brother's locks And aged in his selflessness and empathy. Dark clouds gather in the East- Marking that little patch of the Earth Where has disappeared Earth's greatest child, Mandela.