Thirst For Mandela - Poem by Ben Banda
Oh Dear Mandela!
If your soul was an immortal breeze,
Tomorrow wobbling in flames
Half in darkness gobbled,
For you would preciously thirst;
Our shrines, our night lamps,
Vows, bridges… and bonds;
Once were safer, sat,
Today, all recite nothing less,
But the flesh of the ash
Wooing back, jungle benevolence,
As graves raise, bones to dance.
Oh what else but masks
Fleecing the public of its stealth;
Masks on masks by masks for masks!
Theresa is milk, Gandhi captain;
Silently we shall rejoice
If the saviour you will phone.
Thin all these to you whole or part,
May seem, but dearly listen dear one__
Let them Luther King
And Buddha Gautama remind you
Of churchyards’ and jails’ graves
Of mighty battle zones in daises.
Comments about Thirst For Mandela by Ben Banda
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You