My father's killers, a poem by Rethabile Masilo
They take to the road at midnight, and turn Toward land that by right we plough and turn. Their dark convoy passes white-washed houses. A brake light: the bakkies slow down, and turn. They park at right angles to the street, To light the yard: it's daddy's day and turn. They have come on a crisp September night To blight us, make our season change and turn. The moon shimmers its flashlight on a blade While, from a height, the planets spin and turn. Lapeng
