My Fatherland

said a hero

of faith and bigotry

and inspired the people

who had been walking and fighting

for four hundred years.

Dispossessed people touching every word that spilled

from his coffee and charcoal lips.

Bloody cheeks and crashing brows

spreading the message of hope

and virtue.

Now beaten and pulped on a lonely bed

by revenge tokoloshe

small insipid men

migrant miseries.

He had gone one more night

to check the farm,

read his bible,

sleep on a scuffed mattress.

This Boer hero, a man of horses and high-veld winters

ashamed, fed to the dogs.