On a autumn day in the time
that it takes to park a cream coloured car
a devastating ball of fire, of flame
detonates shattering
in Church Street, Pretoria
on the twentieth of May nineteen eighty three
causing shrapnel to fly down in the street
splintering, scattering
flying, piercing glass
from all the buildings facing the street
in a deadly shimmering rain
murdering, maiming blowing to bits
the innocent civilian men, women and children
passing by in the street
for a political cause
giving a loud hell of a bang
of a applause
as if the whole of humanity
has gone insane
leaving blood, guts, body parts
and the survivors in terrible pain.
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