The last horse ride

Buti Manamela

My last horse ride may be knocking;
It may be coming my way soon,
Too many things I have seen;
Too many things I do speak;
At a bullet pace I face the moon;
The fast-rider is now facing the barn;
To be locked in it forever;
In the haystack with them forever;
With no name and no identity;
And the heavy stone weighing on my chest;
I cannot escape it nor face it;
The weight that lies on my shoulders;
The nightmares that feels like boulders;

I see my victims on this last horse ride;
Lining up to tell me they told me so,
Quite! But I said my sayings!
I am no martyr nor am I martyred,
Lying on the horse-cart with pride;
Beautiful flowers decorating the oak box;
Six golden-ropes to handle with care;
He who took my last breath I may know;
Conversations we held in my last gasp;
My last vowels are in his chest as wasp;
To lay the eggs and hatch the news to come,
Of what my last wishes and declarations were,
Carelessly I whispered to this unkind stranger,
Wishing I had never said the says of my demise;
Wishing I had never provoked the enemies anger,
Wishing I had let injustice become justice,
Wishing I had better known what’s better,
Agape were my lips for injustices I saw;
I say’d the sayings of a principled man
To lift the weight off my shoulders,
But now my sayings remain the boulders.

Scriptures of my ill deeds in scrolled seconds
It is that moment that the horse was saddled with my oak box,
Hearing the bullets that strayed through my body,
Carelessly cursing the master of the trigger happy,
Hoping the last ride could have been designed better,
But there is neither choice nor chance for that,
Had we known that our course was the same,
But mine was mine and his is his,
Hissing n’ kissing underneath the real course that is mine,
And here am I in this saddled oak box,
Wishing I could have altered my thought,
Wishing that my words were better minced and straight,
Hoping I should have reversed my just course,
Letting my selfishness loose was a choice,
I should have unleashed my ignorance,
I should have become another blind man to injustice,
Maybe the victims would have survived,
And the villains changed their minds,
I should have saved myself of meager sins,
But caring and fighting for justice was my meager sin,
It was my demise

And round and round the moon was approaching,
Alight! Said the rough voice of the trigger happy,
Shh! Take your last right of the so called just,
And then the masses were joining in,
Mother crying for the buried child she birthed,
And nearer and nearer it approaches,
Taking me to distances unknown to daughters of the soil,
Leaving no love but turmoil for the tumultuous,
Now that I am not scared of it,
Knowing that I will live in all’s mind,
As a memory that always was
As a spark that lit the fire of freedom,
As a child that cared for the living,
My mind I shall speak,
For in my quietness, evil shall reign
Enjoy the ride!