Dyana Patel


A Place Called Home - Poem by Dyana Patel

You can hear the beat of the drum, the sound of ubuntu calling your name
you can go anywhere in the world but I guarentee it will never the same
A rainbow nation dancing the beat of a new generation and learning the moves of the youths new celebration

You close your eyes only to smell the essence of tradition and belief
to taste the fear of South Africa`s crime and the tears of its victims who wait for someone to recognize their cry

The feeling to embrace what a South African is to be is a wonderful one just waiting to see
what the future holds and what the past has already told

So much to learn yet as much respect to earn
I clap my hands together with many as we begin a song of joy
Together with the landscape with a rush of adrenaline now arrives
feeling the urge to 'jve'

I stand proud hand on my chest as part of a youth of a beautiful country
who made me who I am today so I sing out loud for a new song I have found

The new hairs a new nation I will comb
For I am a South African, A place I call home


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 25, 2010



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