My Country Is In Ruins Poem by Gert Strydom

My country is in ruins,
it’s a place that here and there is falling to pieces,
the decline is clearly visible
and the home of almost every white family is a fortress.

Maybe the writing is on the wall,
maybe people who pillage,
at a time will be send out in thousands,
to murder and rob as they did from their prehistory
and time and again I wonder
how long the peace can last?

Sometimes it looks as if integrity
is totally lacking from your fellow man,
as if every one wants to take revenge
for one or other reason,
as if people only living themselves
but maybe compassion is still hidden somewhere?

How much I want things to be different,
and I am longing for a place in the sun of my own,
to talk my own language, to live out my own culture
and at times to express my own thoughts.

Still there is a sun shining in the heaven,
clouds do still disappear at times before the blue;
people still have got dreams, love and ambitions,
are living their lives in happiness, joy, sorrow and pain.