Have I Got To Close The Books? Poem by Gert Strydom

No bad weather,
murderous natives
or even the British Empire
could stop our ancestors
to make a place
their own
at the southern end
of Africa.

Till on a day
some strange people rule
that has no concept
of that which is high and holy,
and tread every thing
with time into ruins
and believe that things are better

while criminals are stealing cars,
robbing banks, murdering people
and steal just where they can
and deceivers sit in parliament
and work are reserved
for only some.

Have I now also
got to close the books,
and leave the country forever
and climb on a jet plane
and make another place
with foreigners
my own
to have a life again?