GONE

Gone

Is the time when

With heads held high

We could proclaim

We are proud

To be

South Africans.

Lost

Is the moment

When with eager eyes

We looked

Into a brighter future

For this

Troubled land.

Broken

Lie the dreams

Of the millions of children

Who watch

Internalizing

What they see

Through the haze.

Dead mothers

Dead fathers

Dead sisters

Dead brothers

Litter the footpaths

Of the mental slum

That is their inheritance.