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There is a mystique ‘something’

about Africa. It’s pull is magnetic

and to one having Africa in the

blood the flavour of it’s

enchantment remains a haunting

but tender affection until life

gives it’s last breath.

And Africa lives on. The wind

Breathing into the grass and

Thunder rolling it’s eternal drums.

 

The mountains of violent charm

hold high away over the bowing

veldt and foothills, all giving

obeisance to the loft spires and

peaks of God’s sculpturing.

 

The dignity of the San People left

us their wonder and admiration

inscribed in rock, an art surely

revealing their sensitive secrets

of humble enjoyment which can

be rediscovered by anyone lifting

their eyes to the hills – for they

ultimately lead to the heights

beyond which disappear into the

royalty of space.

 

Nkosi Sikelela iAfrica

God Bless Africa

Zhara Yahkov.