At Nelson Mandela's Grave

An Anticipation

We gather at this giant's tomb and bow,
We pygmy middle-managers of doom;
He had his little victories, but now
At last he's gone, and given us some room.

We tarred him with black terroristic crimes
In days gone by, and thankfully remote;
Apartheid too must change to fit the times:
Covert now, but for when it wins a vote.

He thought it self-confining, self-defeating
For people to hold on to hate and blame;
So we will shed a tear and keep on cheating,
And help them kill each other in his name.

Pee Wee Botha