steve biko | september [12] '77

steve biko in police room 619

the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor

is the mind of the oppressed.

steve biko foundation

a poem for sarah baartman

I’ve come to take you home –
home, remember the veld?

the lush green grass beneath the big oak trees

the air is cool there and the sun does not burn.
I have made your bed at the foot of the hill,

your blankets are covered in buchu and mint,

the proteas stand in yellow and white

and the water in the stream chuckle sing-songs

as it hobbles along over little stones.



I have come to wretch you away –

away from the poking eyes

of the man-made monster

who lives in the dark

with his clutches of imperialism

who dissects your body bit by bit

who likens your soul to that of Satan

and declares himself the ultimate god!

I have come to soothe your heavy heart

I offer my bosom to your weary soul

I will cover your face with the palms of my hands

I will run my lips over lines in your neck

I will feast my eyes on the beauty of you

and I will sing for you

for I have come to bring you peace.



I have come to take you home

where the ancient mountains shout your name.

I have made your bed at the foot of the hill,

your blankets are covered in buchu and mint,

the proteas stand in yellow and white –

I have come to take you home

where I will sing for you

for you have brought me peace.

diana ferrus