“Ek wil tog net lewe, in ‘n land wat my eer, waar ek nie hoef te vlug vir geweld of vir seer. Waar ek sonder verwerping my kinders kan leer, en saam met my mense kan plant en kan sweer. Ek wil net kan loop in strate wat vry is, waar liefde regeer en nie kleur meer ‘n eis is. Waar my taal nie bespot word, of stilweg verban, maar saam met my stories in vrede kan staan. Ek wil werk met my hande, en bou met my siel, sonder skuld of verwyte wat ek nie kies of bedoel. Ek wil hoop sonder vrees, wil aanbid sonder skaam, in ‘n land wat nie oordeel op grond van ‘n naam. Ek wil boer op my grond, soos my vaders dit het, sonder drome wat eindig in bloed op ‘n bed. Ek wil nie saans vra of ek môre gaan sien, die donker my neem, en my kinders laat pyn. Ek wil tog net lewe in ‘n land wat my ken, wat my roep by my naam, en nie haat in my pen. Nie met beleid of verpligting wat skyn, maar met geloof en krag wat God my maak rein. Want ek is ook mens, ek is vlees, ek is bloed, en ek verdien tog ‘n lewe wat veilig en goed. Nie as ‘n vreemdeling op eie grond, maar as ‘n kind van hierdie gebroke bond.” – Marius de Kock
“Ek wil tog net lewe in ’n land wat my lief het” is more than poetry—it is a lamentation, a prayer, and a prophetic call. It speaks for farmers, families, and entire communities in South Africa who live under the constant threat of brutal violence and uncertainty. The words cut to the heart: the longing not for riches or power, but simply for the right to live, to raise children, to plant crops, to walk freely without fear.
Scripture is clear about God’s heart for the oppressed and vulnerable: “Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy. Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked.” (Psalm 82:3–4). Yet the silence of leaders and institutions often deepens the wounds. Policies may be written, but love and protection are absent.
This poem forces us to see the human face behind the statistics: fathers who never return home, mothers carrying grief, children robbed of innocence. It cries against a culture that normalizes bloodshed, and it lifts up the eternal truth that every person is made in the image of God, deserving justice, dignity, and peace.
The deeper message is this: human governance may fail, but God’s justice will not. Those who sow violence will reap judgment. And those who cry out for peace will find refuge in Him, for He is near to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit.