Rolihlahla, mama called him
The innocent troublemaker of the town
He had his life ahead of him;
A future to look forward to
The injustice of the government
Fuelled the raging fire in him.
‘Madiba’, they nicknamed him-
An activist for peace was born.
Equal rights was the target
Peace was the only key
Justice was his drive
His people must be free.
In the fight for freedom
He ended up prisoner,
Locked behind bars
Tagged 46664.
But metal bars never stopped him,
Not the hard labour or even the lime mining
He had a reason to fight
And if need be, to die.
On Robben Island
A community was formed.
A generation of young activists
Who shared in his fight.
It spread on like wildfire
Soon all voices united
The people sang and cried
Free nelson Mandel!
On that faithful day of spring
In the year 1990
When for the first time, a baby cried
Alas! He was set free.
And now, he has achieved his dream
The rest is up to us all
We must be the voice of the underprivileged
46664…it’s in our hands
The greatest leader of our time,
Spent 27 years in prison
How far would you go to help your brother?
How much would you give of your time?
Remember the number,
Remember the man: Nelson Mandela
Because from now on,
It’s in our hands!
© The poets voice~~~ September 2008, All rights reserved.
2 lyrically composed words:
i never saw his struggle thru this eyes and never realized how self absorbed mii and the rest of my generation is until i read this
hmm
thanks
@ kafo: you're welcome kafo, it was recently when i watched his 90th birthday that i realised how much of a struggle He went through, not for himself or his family alone but for all black people.
Thx for stoppin by and taking the time to read this!.
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