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Environmentalist minor

I The railway is long gone In the 1960s, Apartheid ethnic townships were grown Where I sit now, is one - "Coloured" Newtown - But raping of nature as culture, as steamship-pasts When transported folk (colonial) found new castes Around the globe - nation, race, faith - when the sun Never set on that Empire called England's Burden Is what I deal with in Eastern Cape province Where if U help clean, folk are not shamed but incensed - they throw diaper bags over your fence! II So what can I do, in old Newtown? More than once Forgive! Then leave some flith near one's own fence! It seems our folk hate clean: they urinate, pollute, frown - So clearing rocks, daily for 3 years, in what I own From soil that has more pebbles & stone Than what America calls good dirt (soil) ... Allow love-ly weeds in my yard, bees come As do indigo-hued wasps, butterflies galore Some for my Marigolds; birds (Sapsuckers?) for Aloe In my mind, I weave garlands for haters, mostly a neighbor But garlanding reminds me of India, poor & beautiful Where a billion folk coexist in nature: cobra, monkey, tiger - As I garland Newtown, forgiving the ungrateful, To each other and especially those soft & kind I pick each bottle top & plastic (stored?) but milk cartons Package gift of "potted" plants in such useful vehicles Other containers recycled easily, and roofing tin Where slow leaks ignored by landlord, make a pipeline To my garden: rewarding me with peppers, herb, beans Flowers, some true compliments, meditation, natural wins ....

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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