Salvannah Lambert, Manenberg
It is Saturday, and I’m on my way just now.
Final touches adding colour to my brow.
I’m excited as I choose my earring.
Oh, oh, then my smile disappears, as I hear shots start to ring.
I drop the earring as I hold my breath.
Thoughts swirling as it means someone’s death.
I rush over to lock and bolt the door.
Checking that my family members are in place on the floor.
We lie quiet as we strain our ears.
So many names are shouting aloud in fear.
The little one can’t keep still and starts to cry.
The shooter shouting, “You all gonna die.”
Ssssshhhh don’t move, please.
Stay low, and let’s pray on our knees.
The bullets fly through the air.
We wonder how long we have to stay down there.
So much anger and evil in this war.
Our only safe place is on the floor.
We hear panic voices outside.
A young boy has been shot in the head.
He tried to cross the street from the other side.
Before we get to him, they cry, “He is dead.”
I look and I see; I knew him from school.
Now he looks so different, lying in his own red pool.
Phones click away as the crowd starts to shoot.
These terrible pics of our reality as their entertainment loot.
We walk away filled with shock.
Closing the door, as we decide to put this violence on lock (down).
