when he spoke
his voice was the sound of tomorrow
and his words were sweet and enigmatic
taking you to the fields and the forests
to the sound of the go-away bird
and the apocalyptic ground horn-bill
when he spoke
he was not  so small a boy
his was alive with things no one understood
and made you feel it would all go well
even as the storms gathered and there was a swell
of fervour, mysticism and gallant conviction
that sent the sons of mothers to their many deaths
his name was freedom
liberty today and tomorrow the moon!
the cry rang out everywhere with electric effect
and there was no need for the double-speak of diplomacy
or the hollow-sounding epithets of hair-splitting academics
freedom spoke for himself