The child is not dead
"The child lifts his fists against
his mother
Who shouts Afrika ! shouts the
breath
Of freedom and the veld
In the locations of the cordoned
heart
The child lifts his fists against
his father
in the march of the generations
who shouts Afrika ! shout the breath
of righteousness and blood
in the streets of his embattled
pride
The child is not dead
not at Langa nor at Nyanga
not at Orlando nor at Sharpeville
not at the police station at
Philippi
where he lies with a bullet through
his brain
The child is the dark shadow of the
soldiers
on guard with rifles Saracens and
batons
the child is present at all
assemblies and law-givings
the child peers through the windows
of houses and into the hearts of mothers
this child who just wanted to play
in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child grown to a man treks
through all Africa
the child grown into a giant
journeys through the whole world
Without a
pass."
Ingrid Jonker
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