JOHANNESBURG

To the concrete dews of the city
The hunters come in droves
In hospitable wings of white doves
Preying down on its colossal structures
Where the dews stand, like sculptures
Natives trotting in polluted streets
To the taxi ranks of lineal charts
Marching obediently in chaotic mass
Seeking for gold in the city of wears
As dedicated as the working ants
In loud silence, they move as killer bees
Departing from iron snakes to Bree
Walking to Newtown in a breeze
Others aim their compasses to campuses
In need of a chance to it all
With tongues unknown to white ghosts
As vagabonds with beanies play hosts
In the corners of mastermind robbery
Defacing faces to faces of rubbery
In the green parks where the potholes rest
Under the papers to drive-away pest
Basking to the city sun of hope
Their homes bulldozed in the location
Whilst others where thrown out by corruption
Now beloved by the streets at night unrecognized
Fed by day-break when the bourgeoisie discard
Their stomachs jokingly full
Their minds no longer keen to memorize
When at times a gang of youth terrorize
The Mandela Bridge a sign of wealth
When in the bins the food is not of health
My kinsmen’s tears drank by the sun
Their sorrowful recollection of what was
And the promise that is lost
Is this our city?
Where the politician, come when in need
However turn his eyes on its dwellings
A forgotten desert to vultures
To the exodus of suits in Sandton
And it shall be known
The hunters come in droves
In the city of gold
Where beauty once lived

By Linda Sakazi Thwala