BORN DIED*

Born in the early seventies
Let me sermonise the warrior
Son of the Mambatheni tribe
A spry dove of peace
Like a serenade his wings
Solemnise the flight of life
With a lance, captor the hearts
Hearts of atrocious void
Let me sermonise the warrior
His heart is arable
Meritorious to the crops it bares
A synopsis of serendipities
Lived with dignity and confidence
An apple whose juice quenches
Whose personage wades through minds
Let me sermonise the warrior
The storm of arson nears
Serpentine to the sky is the dove
Sordid air infiltrates the atmosphere
Poignant like an arrow through the clouds
Silhouettes to an eye of a little boy
The world askance the warrior
Let me sermonise the warrior
Son of the Mambatheni tribe
Thunder strikes to his misfortunes
Transient laments shake the living
Trounced with no soul to salvage
Let me sermonise the warrior
At twenty-seven he died

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

(This poem is dedicated to my brother and friend Ernest Xolani Mbatha. In our hearts you shall always remain – Love Light Forever*)