Reserved

Yesterday I came home.
After journeying slowly -
I arrived without a bang,
A travel weary mother’s son alone.

In search of so many memories –
Desperate to regain the scattered remains,
Hungry for a visual reintegration with my roots;
Here where the dust of my ancestors’ bones lie.

I knocked at the door,
But no-one appeared.
I knocked again
Then a bouncer came.

False smiles and epaulettes,
I had to pay a tourists’ fee
To set foot or lay a wary eye
On my natural heritage where these strangers reign.

All of the breathtaking splendor
That they travel so far to see
Is mine, but no longer belongs to me
All of this that God bequeathed to me.

I am the son of the native
Slave and masters’ mistress
Whore to my brothers’ sisters
A slave still, to all that I feel.

But still I paid, I went and saw
No-one remembers anymore:
The rock beneath my soles
Didn’t even touch my feet.

Yesterday I came home,
And today I paid a cover-charge
To look upon what God bequeathed to me
All of this that was mine, but no longer belongs to me.
(Cape point. – November 2003)