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Sunday 8 February 2009

Blood:


This land this soil
is ours
though it be blood red
deep and russet so
and though the blood has been spilt
and its been reaped and raped
taken by force and stolen
all that was ours
we hold our head high
this land this place
is ours and only ever ours
and though I maybe but
a feather on the wind
blowing here and there
I am someone somebody
who lives and breathes
for his lands for his freedom
suppression without
pillage lost and forsaken
mines robbed of all that glittered
and farmsteads stolen
given to the white man so
this is my land your land
our land
this beating heart this vast place
where the sun rises and sets
to meet the lands before it
it is but one beat
one single eon of life
that courses through all Afrikaans
as we grow and learn
to touch and reach for the heavens so
forgetting all that has been
and only feeling the peace
that must and will come
but not to forget those
that fell upon this so land
and bled and fed
the soil so
to give others a life
were no more tears fall
and another child
doesn't take a gun so
and kill without discrimination
so that they maybe but simply children
and the lands are filled but once again
with the laughter of all
as animals freely roam
and the cats stalk
and the elephants doze
and the giraffes reach
on high for the leafs of trees
and the man and woman and child
live as one
were black and white become but united
and the past is led to rest
remember this soil
this land
you walk upon
is but Africa
Our Land
x


2 comments:

Melech said...

Yet another brilliant piece. If everyone felt this way, we might finally realise a world, truly united in peace.

Regards,
Melech

Anonymous said...

Your compasion and ability to feel for all shines through in all you write and this is no exception. Such insight and thought is truelly a great gift. You already know how good this piece is. Well done. Lainey