it is said that a prophet finds no honor in his own country
hard truths boldly spoken are received as a wretched cacophony threatening to melt the caked wax blocking the closed intolerant ears of intransigence
Madiba once found no personhood in his homeland
his people driven from their land by Voortrekkers
snortling Boers gobbling the land uprooting native people from villages they had occupied since the dawn of time
spilling Zulu blood into roiling rivers of conquest
meeting peaceful petitions of the aggrieved with Sharpsville bullets splattering the blood of innocents onto hardscrabble roads
redressing crimes against the victims by corralling them into denuded Bantustans where rivers do not flow, grass never grows, game cannot graze; only the dust doth blow
riddling the captives with torments of Transvaal Apartheid, mocking the speakers of mother tongues with the fained eloquence of bastardized Afrikaans
the dominion of the oppressors, sanctioned and affirmed by exiling a people from their land, outlawing their language, dividing the nations into a fallacy of separate destinies where a forgetful history blessed with amnesia will anoint the conquerors with the spoils of abundance stolen from the vanquished
Madiba spoke of these things and was awarded a prison cell for twenty seven years
but the hostages of a conquerors justice remained destined to be freed by the arrival of an accepted truth set free by the very words prophetically spoken
prisons cannot contain truth steel bars cannot imprison the idea of divine justice
it slips through the smallest openings like a wafting fragrance of the first day of spring
it saws away at the rust strewn steel bars like the surest movement of a master carpenter’s arm
it melts the thickest links of iron chains in the fiery forges that burn in the hearts of all freedom loving people
the truth of justice is born and takes flight on the wings of history covering the globes cardinal ordinates
nesting in the most humble villages and mean estates on God’s good earth
truth and reconciliation can never be separated planted together to grow healthy nations and communities of trust and restoration
Madiba, you always found honor with the salt of the earth the children of light who seek to dispel the darkness of acrimony and *******
we continue to walk your way guided by your prophetic visions we take the first steps asking liberators to join with oppressors, pairing in a magnanimous walk along wholesome pathways perceiving the buena vistas of reconciled communities firmly established on foundations of peace, equality and justice for all citizens
I caught a fleeting glimpse of Madiba as he rolled by in the Canyon of Heros showered under a June blizzard of confetti and a resounding acclimation of love.
I was a plebe inhabiting a lower floor Broadway office, yet my station blessedly brought me closer to Madiba. As he passed I was moved by his miraculous smile and felt the colossal reverberations of his waving arm triumphantly hailing the sweet freedom of liberation all hostages of feigned justice exude in the vindication of divine justice enraptured in the joy of affirmed truth.
Dearest Madiba we are enriched and blessed for the time you walked among us.
You fought the good fight my brother.
Rest easy for we shall resume the climb to the next mountaintop.