Mandela’s Been Dead
Mandela
died in July
And all
the country cried for his body,
Outside
the hospital
Not
knowing he was dead.
Ever
elegant you
escaped
your body in front of our eyes.
Black
Pimpernel,
They
searched for you in 1962
At
train stations and bus terminals.
From
your mansion in Rivonia
To your
little home in Orlando.
It was
better before they knew where you were.
When
they found you
they
stole your whole middle age.
When
they gave you back
We
stole your old.
Today
your grandsons are going crazy
And
everyone wants a piece of the cake
wants a
piece of your face,
I feel
for your name.
They
have been borrowing it
to
every newspaper with ink.
No
wonder you ditched your body
At the
feet of that bleeping machine.
While
the party debates the date to tell us
And
your family fumbles
To
accommodate the frenzy
Of what
your funeral will look like.
I
imagine you are watching the show,
You, in
the crowd for a change.
Watching
us perform vigils at your corpse.
Don’t
worry,
Let
Zuma do his dance for the cameras
They
will bury you in shoes that he could never fill.
Now
that you are alone for a while
Unbutton
that collar,
sigh,
Madiba,
Weep,
tata.
Curse!
The
ancestors will not blame you.
Confide
in them openly about the mistakes you made.
And
laugh at how funny it is
That
you can finally be human now.
They
will not judge you.
They
have already borne witness to Freedom, the play.
You,
lion
Mouthful
for the praise poet!
They
have not told us that you are gone.
And I
thank them for their quiet.
The
only way you could rest in peace
Is if
we did not know about it.
#SpokenWord
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