We used to speak life into bones.
Above apartheid and the massacre.
We rose and raised our fists strongly,
Symbolising POWER.
We would hold our hands in the spirit of ubuntu.
We hosted big football tournaments and
Everyone could attend the wedding next door.

It all came softly to a halt.
Shutting the doors to togetherness.
We now stand together apart even though it looks like
We do it alone.

Why did we ever put our fists down
And dig graves before we even die.
As I grin behind my mask and cry alone in quarantine
Watching COVID-19 shut the doors to a new rise of hope.
We are to become better alone
Away with the chillaxing that gave meaning to Saturday afternoons.
Now wearing our masks to fight the unseen that is taking us down.
It is coming like a storm.
It is shaking our endurance.
South Africa from dust to dust
Ashes to ashes.
RIP dear world.