The Lost Picture - Poem by Nontobeko Dlamini
Fought bloody battles for this country
We call our home.
Their wives and children would line up to bid them farewell,
Tears streaming down their scared faces,
As the warriors walked further away,
With tears stinging their eyes,
Knowing they might never make it back home,
They never cried for they had to be brave
For their children.
They spent sleepless nights in caves,
Walking treacherous terreins,
Moving to the beat of the drum
To the raging war,
To fight for a stable and united nation.
Their fallen bodies left on the battlefield,
Their flesh torn and tattered to by vultures,
Their bones became a breeding ground for ants.
Are their memories going to be lost forever,
To those ants and vultures?
Why are we ignoring the cries of their children,
And the wailing of their widows?
Look, how we've insulted their memories,
With our monstrosity of money grabbing
And insanity of robbing the poor,
Those in power sharing amongst themselves
The hard earned taxpayers money.
Why have we sold our conscience to the devil,
For wealth and power?
This isnt the picture they were painting with their blood.
We need to find it
And study it carefuly,
So we will find their breath there,
Their tears stain that picture,
We need to honour and treasure it,
Before we loose it forever,
To the sands of time,
Running against us into the hour glass.
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