my country

by Siki Dlanga

my heavy heart
my broken heart
my hopeful heart

O my country
what have i to give you.
country of my birth.
land that carried me in my mothers womb.
on her back singing me songs
Thula Sizwe ungabokhala uJehovah wakho uzokunqobela

O my country raided raped left for dead
who will carry your children on her back
Afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted
country of my birth
invaded by darkness
left in pain
who will pray for you
who will stand up for you and believe
sing for you and rock you ‘till you sleep
who will give you medicine
medicine of hope
Thula Sizwe sam
Thula ungabokhala uJehovah wakho uzokunqobela
(hush o nation do not weep your God will overcome for you)
O afflicted one storm-tossed and not comforted
o my country beyond the our borders
what have I to say but Your God reigns
a conqueror who will fight for you
scatter and confound your enemy

once upon a time
a nation was delivered by a child
from an enemy too great

who will hope
who will dare pray
who will dare to believe for you
stand against your demons!

who is brave enough to speak to this mountain
and cast it to the sea
who believes in miracles

once i heard you held the world captive
peace was your lot and not war
astound the world again
let them see a greater miracle
out of the nations of the southern most of this continent
you're a miracle nation remember
my country

No funeral for roses

No funeral for roses
By Siki Dlanga

After the forbidden fruit.
If life is a matter of days lived.
Time of existence is limited
No hideous thing or beauty is spared
The rose is remembered while its petals are red lush.
Exquisiteness, colour, fragrance
It sheds and gets nothing back.
Decay is sure.
But there is no funeral for roses.

In funerals I’ve seen
Many roses thrown on the grave
Perhaps it is the softness of the petals
or the certainty of death
though we live and are beautiful
our death is as inevitable.
Life is brief.
Death is elusive and definite.
Mocking humouring the young

The end is not the worst
It is the first invitation
Holding you like a baby
Breast-feeding you the pleasures of life
that will have you deceased before you’re done living.
Picking at the rose ‘till it‘s a dry thorn.

Like Ozymandias’ fine empire
A boastful intimidating statue for all to see and tremble.
All the poet saw was a kingdom of rubble.
Ozy tricked by the illusion of immortality that eludes us all.
Cheated to believe we are invincible
So we live as we wish.
We steal, lie and demand our rights
After all we are the centre of the universe.

But there are no monuments for roses
Sweet death shrivelled up and crisp
It does not insist on living more than its due date
To live forever it must die

We are not roses
Our longing for immortality is not wrong
in Eden it was lost
The only hope is death
If we choose it before it chooses us
Plant ourselves in the soil of the original
undefilable immortal
We live forever
We no longer need statues
Our legacy has already begun
Death will not define it
Liberated from its poisonous pleasures
Life holds eternity
Life lives forever
exalted above all powers
forever life will be