memories of Comrade Nelson ‘Madiba’ Mandela …

memories of Madiba …

no more photographs, please!

( Sweden 1990 )

Forgotten Yesteryears

days skim along,
the rapids, white waters,
seconds moments years lives,

fleeting, strings in the common play, strung along,

plucked, teased,
echoes of longpast melodies,

of lips ablaze, tremulous, desirous, insatiable,

seeking yours,
savouring the moments,

since then.

after all this

after all this …

when tears have dried,
adhered, embossed,
etching each streak –

pain, joy, sorrow, grief, relief, release, fear, hope, hopeless,

every crevasse dug, every trench buried, in the minefield of scattered emotions, blurred tremors, whispers, murmuring,

beckoning, reaching out,
cajoling, consoling, offering sustenance, solace,

far far after all of this,

this burdensome shroud, these masks, these tongues,

greying,
creasing skin, chiselling out decades, months, moments,

pale,
shackled in crutches,

and still, somehow,
the murmur rises,
a cool crescendo swelling,

urging us to stand,
not on bended knee,

but tall –

for we may slip,

yet, still,
we shall rise,

we shall rise,
taller, with each fall.