It Wasn'T A Prison Mandela. - Poem by DICKSON MSETI
I call you Madiba,
I mean Mandela a sun of African soil,
Just hear me from where I am,
Yes this voice from east Africa,
Hear this truth,
You were not in prison rather than in the college.
That island they call prison,
It’s a real University,
You stood firm,
After Twenty seven years,
You over-achieved the target,
Became a professor of politics.
Listen to this voice Nelson,
A hero of this millennium,
Brother of the humiliated,
Master of all prisoners,
A king of patients,
Superman of courage,
If Africa needs unity,
You are the flag.
Do you hear me Madiba?
Those voices you missed,
Now hear them,
From every Angle of this World,
All colors respect you,
All flags bow unto you,
As you hold true Love for them.
Do you miss them Mandela?
I mean your fellow comrades?
Solomon Mahrangu didn’t die in vein,
Nor Patrice Lumumba wasn’t scared of death,
Even Edward Mondlane didn’t loose that spirit of fighting,
Samola machel’s soul still exist,
Julius Nyerere reminds you of fighting spirit,
Do you know what they did?
Whether in heaven or in hell, even in life,
They shouted for your victory,
Via Mandela! Viva Mandela!
Viva Mandela! Viva Mandela!
Even if you speak to us,
Or you write to us,
I tell you Madiba,
Even if they tell us your story,
Whether true or not,
Whether they add or reduce,
Hear this out Old man,
No one will ever feel
The same way you felt,
But you know what Nelson?
Their shouting! Shouting! Shouting!
Will always be like a drum,
That produces the wonderful sound,
Of the African spirits.
This is every one feel in every today,
You stay forever to see your generosity,
If they could have seen God,
They would have asked him a favor,
To take your soul with you body,
And fly with you away in heaven,
But ooh! This is a secret under the cover,
Shangwe Mandela, hongera Mandela,
Your name might never wipe way,
Till forever come.
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