Pic: Tsavo Trust
© 2017
A hush has descended over
the savannah
Satao has fallen,
He is no more,
and the wild birds’ song
as they flip flap along,
mourning Him,
but He can’t hear their
call
He died by a poisoned
arrow
hissing through the crisp
winter air
and He crashed to his
knees,
amidst the sorrowful trees
wintering, leafless and
bare
A shadow dimmed the skies
as the light left his gentle
eyes
whilst his killers circled
round
knives in hand,
and there’s a stain on our
soul
from the blood-soaked ground
where His dear face was butchered,
and a curse on the land
Pic: Tsavo Trust
Satao, it’s dusk,
the
moon is growing…
are You out there?
were You able to journey
into the Night?
or are you trapped,
weeping for those left
behind?
or maybe You’re one of the
twinkling golden lights
that I lift my eyes to
when it all just seems too
dark on the ground?
What was it for?
a trinket, no more
You lost your life to satisfy
some fool’s greed,
oh Spirit – this heartbreak
is too much to bear
Satao – come get me – I’d
rather weep with You out there,
Somewhere,
You must be looking down
on Africa
and praying with the Angels for us
in this hell that we’ve allowed,
in this hell that we’ve allowed,
from the vision of light
and love,
how we’ve sunk
to such darkness defies
belief,
like a thief
the shadows drain the joy
from the sun,
if only humans would
realise we are all One
and feel with their hearts
instead of think with their brains,
oh Satao – how much longer
will this agony carry on…
until all the trees, the
animals are dead and gone?
Christine Jordaan 11 July
2014
© 2017
© 2017
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