ANOTHER ROBBEN ISLAND (FOR LATE DENNIS BRUTUS)
There are strokes that beat our collective rhythms
Bringing mild touches of God to us
There are reasons that aid our failed faiths
Our stale health and pale help
You came as a voice but now you are gone
Dennis, our Dennis
The moon even moans plenty
Dennis, our envy
Words are scattered without you
Poetry is in solitary
Activism is undressed, our aide
This mountain you climbed long ago is come again
‘The sun on this rubble after rain…’
Reign, poet – your sweat saw daylight
Our gratitude to Jupiter and Mars
They had you not until now
Safe ride home to another Robben Island
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