Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | November 3, 2008


by Bomkazi Ngqokelela




Splinters of faith now lay afloat

A flooded river, a sea of blood

Sweet seedlings of life coldly slain

Right in front of an innocent man, they lied

He paces around counting surfacing bubbles                                     5

Thinking how many could still have breath

But his heart has caught fire everlasting


This ocean of odium reddening

Yes, scarlet ripples of life that once was

Could colour the face of the man on the moon                                10

In shades of shameless killings

And deep stripes of burgundy blame

What happens to the slaughtered souls

When they reach the light transitioning?


Is it true that a man can butcher thousands                                     15

And still be unmoved by great currents of guilt?

Even when it’s his own borne son of twelve

Whose guts he’s lain on cold concrete ground

What then do we call a man whose heart cannot bleed?

Because to call him human, I fear                                                        20

Would be to liken myself to the devil’s friend


(used with permission of the author)



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