Do Not Cry For South Africa

Picture: www.elllo.org

Do not cry for South Africa… yet

For she is unworthy of the labour of your eyes

Unworthy of the early spring showers to wash away your perception of her

The perception she keeps feeding with every falling grain in the hour glass

Do not cry for her as yet

Not until she does away with her filthy rags

Thinking that they cover her nakedness

Yet they only expose what she never had

Do not cry for South Africa… yet

Whose foolishness is dressed in bombastic intellect and a freakum dress

A professional analyst of a profession without analysis

Rocking her Gau-chair of criticism to and fro at 160 km/h speeds

Her higher standards dragging the floor

Wavering with every train she dips in gravy

Wait until she empties her pockets

To fill the mouth of her poor

Though she might have a man

other women have a husband in him

She lets politics nibble at her nipples thus poison the roots of her seeds’ nourishing

South Africa, whose viva! is incited by Vavi

Shed no tears for her and her restless young

Calling for the nationalization of mines ahead of the “nationalization of minds”

She who can order grilled chicken to feed over-sized bellies

Yet fail to deliver the nourishing of impoverished minds

She sends her children to the flood to get her a glass of water

So that she can appease her thirst for loyalty to historical integrity

She stands on one leg even when there are open chairs

A woman who updates about her intentions yet they are nullified by her actions

Cease from crying for her until she stops selling her love for a weekend on the dance floor

Do not cry until she stops getting it

A hustle for pleasure and morning-after pills

Trying to cure her lust for men of power and corrupt leadership

Hey! Shut your glands to the tear that wants to betray your eye

Until this woman learns to cry

Until she learns to try

Until she attempts to fly

Do not cry for her as yet

Until she relinquishes her identity crisis

And admits that under her darkened complexion bubbles a yellow-bone reflection

And her accent does not serve as a benchmark for her mind’s assent