Mandela's Grave
Remember ninety-five
When we felt free
We felt alive
We hugged and kissed
Rejoiced in freedom
Rejoiced and sung
Songs of freedom
Mandela walked
As skeptics talked
But he walked on high
And touched the sky
He loved and he gave
The spirit of the brave
He forgave and reconciled
A sad and battered child
He gave us hope
He gave us life
He freed us from our thoughts of strife
He crossed the divide
Of crossword puzzle blocks
And gave us the clues
- We threw down our rocks
But here we are now
Tectonic plates crash on our brow
Where is the hope gone?
Where is the future that we had won?
As we slipped from meritocracy
To simple mediocrity
We look around
And all we found
Was our hopes dashed
Dashed to the ground
Our children suffer, forlorned
Whilst louts with shovels shovel the gold
Of our future that was pawned
For the few our future was sold
And as the fat asses
Roam around in masses
Eating the hay that was made when the sun still shone
Eating the food that the cattle had won
But brayingly they still prance around
Relishing in their new wealth found
As the baby dies hungry and cold
And the baby is buried in hallowed ground
Remember back in ninety-five
When we all felt thrilled –
Alive!
Remember the victory songs
Of how we would right the wrongs
But now we wrong the right
As for gold and wealth we fuss and fight
And in his cold and lonely grave
Mandela turns
And weeps
As his long road
Stops
At his grave
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