Thursday, December 27, 2012

For A Time My Mother by Melissa Fry Beasley

Image -

My mother spent the summer locked away in a strange place.
Root wrapped and holding
But we could not be certain for how long.
She wasn't so unique in her occasional ineptitude.
She used to walk barefoot from town to town searching,
Until she had turned every corner and run into herself.
Just like a dog can smell fear,
She could sense the indifference,
Confusion of memory and imagination.
She remembered humble beginnings among dirt and stone but
We are never the same person twice.
She was buried in loss,
Leaving only quiet desperation.
Staring in dumb silence,
We expected that past predicted the future.
So many elusive and subtle masters that enslave us.
Preserve your illusion because only the dead speak truth in this place.
We are all beggars,
Each in our own way,
Always an incompleteness somewhere.
Remember that nature is well suited for weakness,
And our skeletons aren't to be distinguished from our ancestors.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Madiba by Simphiwe Dana

Image -  Pan-African News Wire File Photos

The tree falls and winter comes
The giant saviour that became the saint
Is on the last journey back to his origins
Time worn, like an aspiration compromised
They wait on the sidelines
The whole world waits
For the covenant made with him is too strong a bind
To snap before the tree falls
Though bursting at the seams
The giant sleeps….their neediness keeps the saint alive
Incapacitated by the smiles of hope
Spread in the hearts of little children
It is easy to forget
That the dream is for all
Qhawe lamaqhawe
Ntsika yesizwe
Umhle umsebenzi wakho
Uyancomeka kwaye usithwele
Konke kwenzekile
Uyidlalile indima yakho
Ntsika yesizwe
The giant sleeps
Our fears keep the saint alive
To save us another day