Writer: Xolile Charles Mphokela
He, who, from dawn to dusk toils for meager wages
Still sweating blaze like his ancestors long gone ages
May his strength and health not miss him?
For his children’ dreams may not look dim
Laboring for a future, that perhaps he might redeem
Yearns for payday, thus he can rejoice and claim his self esteem
To him, his job is a beacon of hope
The struggle and hardships unto his soul drilling a hole
Reflecting upon his bed to rest whereon the day must expire
In him I see a rage and exhaustion that glow like a wildfire
His dreams are still embedded in him by the light of the moon
For him the day dawns too soon
He of a blue collar, who witnessed the Marikana tragedy that the world still grieves
Is it the companies’ bosses or government that deceives?
They who march on the streets for their wages to be increased
For labour takes its toll on their bodies, some come home diseased
Perhaps, to them economic freedom is a foregone conclusion
In companies’ list of priorities they wait for their inclusion
At the request of their bosses, they work overtime and unfair hours
They experience the same plight as those fallen in Marikana, they yearn to lay fresh flowers
Flowers, that one day may sprout and bloom hours of ease
From their overalls they wash away the anger, not only the grease
The pain of farmworkers in De Doorns is never ending
They endure all kinds of ill treatment from sun rising to sun setting
Treated as subservient beings, because they are semi-skilled
They grieve at grievances foregone and dreams literally killed
The factory workers, the maids all suffer till sorrows end
Remembrance of things past and of God’s love that is lend
So many suffer in numerous and unknown ways
In time they shall find the place where sorrow stays
Facebook: Xolile Charles
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