At eighteen I was called to the military
for compulsory service in a time of war.
My life changed from what it was before.
It felt if from destiny I would not be free,
that a time of true peace would never be;
the havoc that war brings I want nevermore,
no-one wins in a time of blood and gore.
A new government proclaims tranquillity,
yet a young-man puts on a red beret,
at universities cars and buildings burn,
ten kilogram rocks are from bridges dropped,
farmers are being killed on every day,
at robbery some officials take a turn,
the killing of the police is not stopped.
II
The killing of the police is not stopped,
for a place in the sun for each one I pray;
by both black and white men I am robbed,
to my own, tomorrow is a fearful day,
while I wonder what kind of peace is this,
remember howitzer guns that thundered,
while many do not the pestilence miss,
in havoc shopping malls are plundered.
Daily do I pray for a real change of heart,
for people for one another truly to care,
for real leaders to play a meaningful part,
are of the smallest acts of kindness aware,
also that amidst challenging times we are
but that happiness and kindness is not far.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem