They call it Black Wednesday.

It was about the light;
The light of words that
Reveal the truth
And spark conversations,
Inked by the pens of journalists,
Imprinted in newspapers,
Flowing in the blood of Biko.

Did he really die in police detention?
Or was there something more untoward?
Relentlessly pursuing the truth,
Percy Qoboza
Aggrey Klaaste
Faced the walls of prison.
Still they did not flinch.
Why should they?

Truth stands upright.
It does not bend or betray.
Truth stares at the world,
Eyes wide open
In the wake of the storm.
And so we uphold this fight,
With our pens,
Our keyboards,
Our microphones,
Our cameras.

We, the keepers of the light.