In our backyard is a mound
Vuyo lies there – underground.
We have to walk quite far each way
to school and back every day.
We laugh and shout and run and play
and sometimes from the stream get clay.
Across the N2 it’s still far;
for quite a way we walk by tar
until we reach the beaten track
that takes us home and brings us back.
Woe to us all on that terrible day
etched in our mem’ries forever I’ll say.
Whoosh, went the red car – a streak on the road,
BANG went the bottle – we heard it explode.
A wicked sliver wedged up high
in little Vuyo’s skinny thigh.
She filled the air with her distress;
then, shocked, we saw the gory mess.
Our little Vuyo’s precious blood
poured forth, a bright red gushing flood.
It just flowed and it spurted and spattered us all,
and I sprang when I saw her swirl slowly and fall.
Terror-struck, jabbering, transfixed with fear,
“Sipho, run home and fetch Mama, you hear?”
Crushing her to me and holding her tight
I kept my tears back with all of my might.
I can’t recall the moment when
our Vuyo’s moans came to an end.
I looked at her and then I saw
her open eyes could see no more.
Our baby’s life had ebbed away
this was to be her final day.
When Mama’s feet came into view
an hour had passed or maybe two.
Off Mama trot at a steady pace
a stricken look upon her face.
She held Vuyo close to her throbbing breast
struggling for air to her tortured chest.
We got to the clinic at last but knew
for Vuyo life was long since through.
They put our girl in a backroom hold
toe-tagged and left on a slab so cold.
Our little girl lies in a hole in the ground;
we go there quite often to visit that mound.
We all feel the loss of our dear little one
she was such a joy and a bundle of fun.
