An angry poem

For months now South Africa has experience labour unrest as it has not seen since the days of apartheid. Much property has been damaged, our economy has been weakened, our international image marred, and far too many people have died. I fear the inequality and the urgent need to magically fix every wrong perceived to be caused by apartheid will completely tear my country apart. Something broke as I read another article on this today, and so I had to write something about it. Here is a poem. I hope in future there will be a time for the opposite sentiments to be expressed.

The struggle is not dead, not in Rustenburg and
not in Ceres
the fires still burn
how will they forget the past?
piece by piece
as they tear the future apart
the fruits of comradeship are
pangas, struggle songs, dead boers
and Lonmin massacres
dig your treasure out of the ground
and out of stone white hearts
smash the ore to pieces
smelt it in the furnace of your hate
and sing Lord, bless Africa
our land with the blazing blue sky
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