It’s her story, our story,
Of a history we hadn’t planned on,
A tale we thought we’d never tell.
In the face of choice
We are confronted with the grim reality,
That reason has no voice…
And clanging symbols make all the noise —
Noise that seems to grab the attention —
The attention of the masses
Even the most learned in classes —
The school of wisdom
To which so many seldom show up —
Where do we go from here?
Our country’s future hangs in the balance,
Tipping the scale for an election drawing near.
The troops advance
Ready to dance
With moves slick and slender
Finessing with words so tender;
But if you listen carefully,
Your heart stops woefully
Because although the suits are new
And the words are sweet,
The music’s just the same
And the performer’s intention remain —
To seize, to rape, to plunder
That which is left
By men most inept.
Who will lead us?
Who will go?
He that has cleans hands and a pure heart —
He who has not lifted His hand unto vanity
Nor sworn deceitfully,
Men of valour,
A wise head, a still tongue,
One who understands that it isn’t in much speaking
Or in promises made;
But one who comprehends the brevity of time
And the length of days.
He who carries the burden to serve, to give, to lead from behind,
Not needing the prestige of men or to be first in line.
What shall our history be?
More of the same?
Or a chance for real change?
Are we ready to make the choice?
To give reason a voice?
Are we ready to experience the wave of freedom
That comes, that will come —
For choosing right and not wrong,
Fair and not favours,
Truth and not treachery,
Wisdom and not asininity,
Purpose and not futility?
It begins with a mind shift,
Gears fully engaged,
Not aimlessly lingering in neutral
Neither accelerating or backpedalling…
For History can repeat itself.
Dare we stay silent?
Mum on our territory’s affairs?
She will dress herself again,
But this time will we defend her?
Fight for her?
Protect her innocence?
Value her worth?
It’s time to change the narrative…
Make it a future with which we can live.