Made in Rhini

Let thoughtless winds
Capture me by my feet.
Drag my soul to ends
Beyond where skies retreat.
Never mind the bloody body,
Whose heart is dying to beat.
A breath made in Rhini,
Its utter silence speaks.

Born of rust and muddy patches,
Humble streets
Taking dusty measures.
Posing with donkey-carting treasures,
Cunning catchers
With no hunting badges.
Mystified in ganja leaves
And drunken efforts.
Introspection, numbing passion.
A day made in Rhini,
Living for the day, puffing seconds.

Digging trenches
Of thinking patterns.
In a legacy of time,
Clocks ticking backwards.
Feet buried in safety boots,
Leaking, sweating.
Danger suppressed
The water-drinking habits
Yet numb are the living settings
And dumb is the thirst which it quenches.
A sip made in Rhini,
Mouth-dripping masses seeking answers.

A school of leaders,
Taught and tested,
Suited, tied, protested,
Assaulted, arrested.
Pupils terrified
Where Makhanda's blood rested.
Radicals of the ground vested,
Yours is the power of your ancestors.
Revolution made in Rhini,
A vote the Mountain of Sins casted.