So he is gone
And we are left
Behind bereft
Numbed and lost.

A professor says
His passing marks
The end of the
Struggle era.

For sure he was
Among the last
Of the older
Wiser ones.

His successors
Younger but not
Conscious of their

Rather rudely
Plundering his
Reconciliation call
Killing hope.

The wind gusts strong
Up in Deer Park
Where I record
His legacy.

The squalls of change
Bluntly calling
Wayward comrades
To order?

But what was he
To settler Pom
Post struggle boy
Little me?

It’s very clear:
Of equality
For SA.

Rights created fair
For this country
All who live here
Black, white, gay.

And for little me
This soutie boy
He made a law
Just for us.

And so it was
The Bill of Rights’
Equality Clause
Bold pioneer.

Bright with our rights
Never forget
Its power.

Though still for some
Mere paper help
The rights remain

And so for me
Parental silence
Scant approval
Was replaced.

Rainbow beacon
To all the world
Cemented for us
Section 9.

Fork-tailed drongos
Shriek on pines
South-easter blown
Disbarked grey.

Butterflies flit
Brave brimstones bright
Between the trees:

Life goes on blown
Along by nature
Clearing us out
Drying eyes.

He leaves us here
Restless alone
Needing groupness
To self share.

His legacy sure
His farewells turgid
Block the channels
All the same.

Some make a chink
In platitudes
But very few
Break babble.

Best then to wait
Soft times to come
Own space and words
To put down.

There will be time
Because he was
Of all time – not
Ours alone.

Not just a light
Gone out for us
But all the world
Now dimmed down.

The wind picks up
The rage of ages
Pushed back down
In respect.

What cauldron dire
Lies waiting now
Holding its breath
Beloved land?

Too soon to say
If things will change
Better or worse
Now he’s gone.

Time will speak out
History will tell
The full story in
Times to come.

For now we start
In numbness grey
Mourning barely
Starting out.