Don Mattera

For James Matthews and Gladys Thomas after their poems were executed

The poet must die
her murmuring threatens their survival
her breath could start the revolution;
she must be destroyed

Ban her
Send her to the Island
Call the firing-squad
But remember to wipe her blood
From the wall,
Then destroy the wall
Crush the house
Kill the neighbours

If their lies are to survive
The poet must die

Sobukwe

On his death

It was our suffering
and our tears
that nourished and kept him alive
their law that killed him

Let no dirges be sung
no shrines be raised
to burden his memory
sages such as he
need no tombstones
to speak their fame

Lay him down on a high mountain
that he may look
on the land he loved
the nation for which he died

Men feared the fire of his soul

Zimbabwean love song

Sing and dance
Sons, daughters of Zimbabwe

It is the call of a timeless glory
And the beat of the native song
That beckoned you to struggle on

Nana Zimbabwe
It was your dance of daring feet
Which set the bush ablaze,
Made the dying sweet

Sing and dance
Daughters and sons of Zimbabwe
It is the rooster that sings of children
Marching against the wind

The white night is dead
Freedom walks in the sunrise
And in the glow of an eternal love song