By Mile Wilson
The restless shadows flit across the scene
And from within a shout, a cry - a scream.
And figures black across the dark of night
Merge back into the shadows and take flight.
The morning brings the grim and grisly find-
The death and horror that the night has left behind.
The Afrikaner farmer and his wife
Both maimed and butchered with no sign of life.
All these lives taken make us cringe inside
Because we know that this is genocide.
The death and strangulation of a nation
In truth is nothing but abomination.
The deaths of farmers daily just mounts higher
As politicians keep fuelling the fire.
One Boer one bullet is the mindless shout
And daily this becomes a bloody rout.
The black police are rarely to the fore
When all their brethren knock at whitey’s door.
Shout justice for the farmers – there is none
Except the cold hard fact to own a gun.
These farms supported all – both white and black
But now these farmers have to face attack –
Not just from peasants with an eye for land
But from the politicians grubby hand.
“The land must be divided for common good”
(This is why Zimbabwe imports food.)
Attacks on whites will never really stop
And Africans will never learn to crop.
Whilst politicians keep their brethren poor
The black distrust of whites will grow the more.
For whites, the harmony which they once had
With their own land is now gone bad.
For their future’s sake and that of all their kids
They must make plans and very soon to rid
Themselves of this ongoing evil –