Pretoria,20 May 1983 Poem by Gert Strydom

It was an autumn day
and times will never be like that again:

We who are in love
having a lunch at a restaurant

and the half carelessness
after the promotion that I got,

the war days on the border
that for me is over for the here and now

and then, we just miss the bomb
that explodes in Church Street

and know we are living in times of war
and see the innocent

of any sex, age,
language and race

murdered, maimed, blown to pieces
and of some, just pieces are left

and somewhere our old world
has lost its meaning and has gone insane.