A poem I wrote some years ago about Nelson Mandela, who sadly died last week. But Here You Are
But here you are, In my home. The roof’s a bit shaky, I know. Tin sings, It creaks and cries in the rain. But the floor is sound. My feet are strong, They’re set on the path to freedom.
Now, I know your favourite meal. Am I right? It’s chicken fried in corn oil. You eat it for dinner, every night.
I’ve got one piece to share with you. Cause Mr, Sir, that’s what friends do.
How long has it been? 27 years? I thought you’d die, I don’t lie, I thought you’d die.
But behind the wire, Alone, They thought your hope would fade.
You turned to rock Resolute. You talked and lived on, dignified. Those jailers carved a monument, Now, Mr Sir, you’ve changed this place From inside out. Here is my home, safer now. And look, can you see that shaft of light splitting through the roof? That’s the sun, Mr Sir, That’s the sun.