Afrikaner genetics (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)

Maybe wild trees grow
the yards of your ancestors,

their worth have become nothing
like stale salt,

their faces are yellow
and most of them are squint,

they walk without words to nowhere

but I have a God that stands with me
and my ancestors,

with brave men that do not disregard their duty
who do not imagine them above others

who had chosen their wives
out of a people that God himself planted

and your insults of my people and me
make me raving mad, worse that just angry.

[Reference: Afrikanergenetika (Afrikaner genetics) by Koos A. Kombuis.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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