Editor, thanks for the poets’ column,

I'm still here, a young man and no poet,

I carry the milkpail to arm-ringed celebrities

and I have not one bead of an arm-ring.

There's a voice that's quite explicit:

through envy you face destruction.

Envy appears when everything's normal:

abnormality comes with a fragmenting church.

Snap this envy that snares you.

For a long time we've said so criss-crossing the land.

Envy split us from God:

those are the headings in our discussion.

This envy appears when everything's normal:

abnormality comes with a fragmenting Word.

It scattered and mowed us down,

hurled clods at our sons and daughters.

God offers no hope at all,

he will never, never speak to us.

He says “Take up your fathers’ coats

in whatever land they were left.”

Africa, you were shackled

because you lost your way.

The late riser misses everything:

we weren't aware of our fathers groaning.

Our heroes fall, our country's dark,

just rough mounds because of envy,

and the torment we suffer—“Agreed!”

you can see derives from envy—“Agreed!”

You see, my people, we're old,

truth threw us long ago;

this land of Africa's ours,

but we sank in pools through our folly.

It's a shame, my people, a scandal,

a disgrace not to help your own,

and you still saying, “We're students:

who are others compared to us?”

Through envy we round on each other

while blacks are ringed by foes.

The shades depart no longer knowing us

and we sink in a stream of despair.

Envy's an obstacle up this hill,

money's another obstacle:

so we battle to scale it.

Can a seasoned debater dispute this?

The fulfilment of what was written approaches,

I swear by Ndlambe and my father who sired me.

When that time comes we'll all rise to our feet

and there'll be no place for this envy.

Mercy indeed!!