why, they ask her,
why him?
she always says the same
that
day
when we met
and spoke
and laughed
she felt i felt
all i needed to be me
was me
Archive for July 25, 2015
am i that weary traveler
parched and thirsty
alone
lonely
in the
desert
of tattered hearts
who finally
sees it
feels it
tastes it
&
breathes it
the mirage
of
love
or is it lust
hmm get back to you on that i must
i am unable
to give up on you
you
who have etched your soul
chiselled deep onto the walls of my vagabond heart
you
whose smile is carved
along the alleyways of time
so wherever i may be
it shall always
be that smile
of yours
that i
see
i refuse …
to bow
scraping for scraps in the dirt
i refuse
to kneel
cowering before the altar
i refuse
to lose
hope for a better tomorrow
i refuse
to stop believing
that love will gently prevail
where mirth peace respect may again walk tall
in the very places
where once roamed nothing but sorrow
Rains over Jozi
The parched African earth soaks up the liquid offering from the heavens,
birds sing,
ululating,
a chorus of relieved catharsis flows through my barren heart,
the steady rain continues,
elevating just another day,
transforming a dry insipid moment,
into a cacophony of jubilant life,
life!
life flowing,
streaming down the desolate avenues,
dripping like perennial teardrops,
down the cheeks of this crazy,
maddening city of gold,
moments of undistilled supreme mirth,
heralds the arrival of a new season,
a triumphant rebirth,
jubilant,
relieved,
ecstatic,
as the Gods of Africa,
and the spirits of the Ancestors,
smile down,
on us,
we of flesh,
and of blood,
and of muscle,
and of bone,
soaking hardened hearts,
dead as cold stone,
infusing new life,
amidst the fragrant scent of rain on dry soil,
while the bronze sun retreats,
seeking respite behind the dark, hopeful clouds of charcoal grey,
while the rains shower their blessings,
banishing the winter chills,
and graciously beckoning spring to stay.
The rains over Jo’Burg caress the leaves on the trees,
cleansing the accumulated baggage that only yesterday so listlessly hung,
over the dryness in my soul,
scorched by a merciless winters’ sun,
Ah! But today,
today,
there are songs to be sung!
today,
I feel complete,
I am with the heavens,
no longer splintered,
into a thousand and three fragmented pieces,
at last I am whole,
at last,
I am one…
Scribbled Verse 