A great man dies; and the firmaments bleed.
The winds roar from the the dark bowels of Soweto, carrying with it the nightmarish echoes of the screams that drew blood. The images of black fair game falling after the crack springs to mind.
We recall valor and steely resolve, the seeds that made an oak sprout on Robben Island. How that Island now stands in awe, its innards lacerated by the time flashes that regurgitate and the flashes of cameras that seek to capture a whiff of greatness.
A great man falls, and even the heavens shudder…who is tall enough to give him a guard of honour? Rise, Biko! Rise, King! Nkrumah, where at thou? Lo, another of your kind joins you lot amongst the stars!