'n Storie met dertig woorde...

Die voorouers is dood. Somige begrawe en vergeet. Tuine langs sand paaie fluister poëties, reën soos trane van verlange wat gewaai word deur die wind. Terwyl ons staan en kyk.

(The ancestors are dead. Some buried and forgotten. Gardens along sandy paths whisper poetic; rain like tears of longing, blown by the wind. As we stand watching.)

OH AFRIKA, MY AFRIKA!

Oh Africa, my Africa
How I wish I could wipe away your tears
To alleviate, no eliminate your suffering
To return you to your former glory
Help you to reclaim your exalted place
In the annals of this epoch.

We’ve defeated the colonial slave master
To be ruled by mindless martyrs
And greedy, blood-thirsty bastards
Whose only desire is personal power
Achieved through the murder of innocence
And callously maintained with armed intolerance.

Where now are the people’s leaders?
Where are the revolutionary ideals?
Gone and buried in the blood-soaked fatherland
Forgotten amid the greater carnage of commerce
And crushed beneath the grinding wheels of progress
As we all look on so helpless.

Stand tall sisters and brothers
Honour the memory of the father and mother
Together we can stem the tide
Let the children live with pride
United we can dream again
Freed from the shackles of relentless strain.

Once more to claim our place in the sun
Without fear of persecution and harm
Our voices can be raised as one
Ubuntu! Uhuru! We will sing freedom’s song
Of Africa, my Africa
The struggle carries on!

Just Another Day - May 25 every year...

It’s cozy indoors by the fire

Just another cold, wet, gray autumn day

Out there the raindrops

And icy gusts are uninviting

Biting, drenching souls

Relentlessly reminding all

That in Africa there is more

Than just sunshine today

On this day unacknowledged

Unannounced, uncelebrated

Not forgiven, unforgotten

Africa Day, just another African day

Unforgiven, not forgotten

Africa Day, African dazed.

Dazed and warm indoors

So easy to forget that outside

It is cold and wet and uncomfortable

Around some other fire

Misery sits warming its hands

And drying its feet

Beneath a leaking roof

With broken hinges on the door

Of the empty grocery cupboard

As the last log is licked

By a struggling, frail flame

As the draught seeps

Beneath the door

So easy to forget

That its Africa day today.

Unacknowledged, unannounced

And not celebrated

Instead a toast is drunk

To the barman’s continued health

As the gray skies darken

And the rain continues to pour

And somewhere up there

The sun is shining on Africa

On this dreary African day

Unacknowledged, unannounced

And not celebrated

In an African daze.

Woman

Life’s nurturer
Child’s comforter
Silent sufferer
Heart’s conqueror.

Life giver
Beautiful lover
Someone’s sister
Eternal mother.

Leader, teacher,
Preacher and seeker
Future and past
The abuse cannot last.

Reflect, respect
Reject object.
Pain inflicted
Living restricted.

OBVIOUS

It fell 

From my face

Shattered

On the floor.

Nowhere to run

No place to hide

No more deception

No delusions.

I am exposed

My rose tinted spectacle

Lies broken

On the ground.

THE END OF WAITING

The years have passed by in a moment,

Leaving just the scars and memories

To keep me company; keeping me sane –

Helping me to cope with the strain.

All the time wasted waiting

For a better day, a better way,

A reason to stay the distance

Despite this clinically reduced existence.

And while the spilled blood dries, the flesh rots:

Souls entwined inevitably unravel:

The truth, a thread, a solitary trickle –

A teardrop that rusts the moon’s sickle.

Wasted living waiting for life to begin;

Wasted living in someone else’s dream;

Where love once given cannot be returned –

Where souls once cherished cannot be spurned.

The tender smiles and joyous laughter;

The special moments that we share:

These are the treasures that linger

When you dance alone on the edge of despair.

So much living wasted...

Waiting…

Just waiting…