Sizwe Hlabisa Poet Classicism

Burning My Pages

I, just like a page
Have a true  story to tell

It, may not be a best seller 
But a story of my life, nonetheless 

And, with every page, that I tell it 
The pages burn into dust and get lost in the breeze, 
the breeze that is life 

I've never, stolen to the detriment of others, 
Nor have I toiled  for the poor to slumber,  
in a voidfull darkness 

I've never, burnt any soul, with whip in my mouth, 
thereafter leave scourges without smoothing them in balsam 

And yet, night after night, 
as I look to the heavens 
I'll still ask my Father, whether I, 
have offended or cursed 

These lips, sure as a kiss, 
I have used just for healing
As springs, endlessly warm, 
I have lent  these hands, to fill up hopeful promises 

And yet, night after night, 
as i gaze, into the constant ocean of green
I, light as a kite, flapping in the wind, 
sailing to new words of promise 


I, just like a page 
Once had a story to tell
Whether you, can take a page, 
from this book, and burn its pages 

Just as, these pages burn, leaving no words 
of regret or sorrow to linger 

Time, passes the pages, burning the book, 
leaving the legacy of a man...


05Aug2015

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Richard Lamoureux August 22, 2015 at 8:05 AM A moving write. I very much enjoyed my first encounter with your writing. Sizwe Hlabisa August 31, 2015 at 2:23 PM Than you Richard :-)