14 YEARS LATER

Fourteen years of winters long and cold, Of near misses whispered, stories retold. The black and white bled hope into the ground, Yet every season, hunger still was found. The streets of Soweto waited, patient, proud, For drums to beat again, for chants out loud. Critics spoke of ghosts that wouldn’t fade, Of glory lost in shadows where they played. But struggle carves the soul into steel, Turns doubt to fire, makes the dream feel real. Through heartbreak, through the tears they’d swallow, The Buccaneers refused to be hollow. Then came the day the drought would break, When every pass, every tackle, every break Led homeward, to the trophy they had earned, To the fire that fourteen years had burned. Now the trophy rests where pride belongs, Amidst the cheers, the drums, the songs. For glory isn’t given, it’s reclaimed— And Orlando Pirates wrote their name unashamed.