The Lost Picture Poem by Nontobeko Dlamini
The Lost Picture
Great warriors
Fought bloody battles for this country
We call our home.
Their wives and children would line up to bid them farewell,
Tears streaming down their scared faces,
As the warriors walked further away,
With tears stinging their eyes,
Knowing they might never make it back home,
They never cried for they had to be brave
For their children.
They spent sleepless nights in caves,
Walking treacherous terreins,
Moving to the beat of the drum
To the raging war,
To fight for a stable and united nation.
Their fallen bodies left on the battlefield,
Their flesh torn and tattered to by vultures,
Their bones became a breeding ground for ants.
Are their memories going to be lost forever,
To those ants and vultures?
Why are we ignoring the cries of their children,
And the wailing of their widows?
Look, how we've insulted their memories,
With our monstrosity of money grabbing
And insanity of robbing the poor,
Those in power sharing amongst themselves
The hard earned taxpayers money.
Why have we sold our conscience to the devil,
For wealth and power?
This isnt the picture they were painting with their blood.
We need to find it
And study it carefuly,
So we will find their breath there,
Their tears stain that picture,
We need to honour and treasure it,
Before we loose it forever,
To the sands of time,
Running against us into the hour glass.
They will stay forever in the hearts of their loved ones, they will never be forgoten by the nations.even if the hypocrits can try to cover and eradicate the role these people played for the freedom on the nations, they will always be heroes even if they are unsung...this is poem of yours is a masterpiece... Siya_! !
A strong powerful poem showing/illustrating the true art and spirit of the gifted poet showing the ills in her society.A fine masterpiece to Africa.Your writing is bold and brave.Your incisiveness is marvelous to read.Carry on writing in this true spirit of the poet who shows where we go wrong and gives the solution and we will be grateful to your honesty forever.We bow our heads to profusely thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 6:46:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
When the truth strikes, those matured enough go to an extent of comprehending the latter, and the childish, so to their immature minds go to the level of being ignorant and avoiding the true reflectional call, that not only calls for justice, simultaneously blowing the voices of Ukubuyela eMbo, were things were prior the damage, and. Were things would have been prevented from happening, but times went on, and each day, by those days, a soldier had to fall. Tears on those children had to fall, and the strength of those single women, followed likewise, but was there recognition of all those circumstances? .... But today we enjoy their efforts, likewise we have forgoten their spirits The_African_Son (Th³_ªfR¹cª¬_šºN)