The barbed wire, the bayonets, the hounds
The sounds of trampling from Soweto to Pretoria.
You knew, humanity deserved better. You were young
Then, your life lay ahead, promises, dreams-
Winnie stood there with you, and the children.
Then they took you away, placed you in solitary.
Twenty seven, prime, irreplaceable years.
But Robben Island was no match for your will.
You read, I am told, the Bhagavad Gita in your cell.
Inheritors of the rampages of colonial tyranny
Everywhere, looked upon you with admiration.
The voices against the privileged plunderers
And their enablers in zones of affluence
Gathered strength. From behind the prison walls
The mighty wave of your inspiration worked its magic
And twenty seven years on, the walls of apartheid fell.