Drumbeat Poem by luvuyo gqamane

Hear the stories for told, by mirrors of ancestral realms.
Listen to the rhythms painting reflection of heaven for every father who grooms a son to be a real man.
Hear gentle palms turn to iron fists, fists that beat the flesh of women till blood spill.

Tell a tragic story of a girl, a girl groomed to bear pain of any kind.
But her tears were the emblem of broken mankind; see the injustice played in tune of greed in the hearts of those in power.

Motherland cries for the son and daughters of man, who found refuge behind alcohol streams, dreams fading away in the jungle of prostitution, fading like African drumbeat.

Fathers and mothers to blame, when sons shiver from iron fists, while daughters awaits for the sign of relief, pure hearts turned to stone.
Naked souls surrender to gates of hell, heaven aching for dying souls,
Eternally we fade like African drum