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In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies,
but the silence of our friends.
-- Martin Luther King Jr.

In the House of Stones, today;
We know it to well, because we have lived it
That trudging through history
Is a journey without a friend.
For many a time
We have been like Hlakanyana
And have pitched for a night
At a cannibal’s home
Only to wake up in the middle of the night
To discover that in the den its high noon with the bonfire to prepare us for a meal
But all the time we have escaped.
At the end of this journey
Whose words shall we recall?
Those who have insulted us?
Or those leaders who, instead of silence, have
Chosen to say what is wrong?