Gazlam Motaung Poet Ode

Ode to the Sycamore Tree Cut Down by the Yobos

You once shaded lovers and sparrows.
your branches combed the morning mist-
a cathedral of green where children sang,
and the sun broke bread with your leaves,
O patient giant,with roots like prayer,
you watched seasons kneel before you.
The rain leaned close to whisper secrets,
the moon hung her lamp from your crown.
But two fools came with saws and laughter-
their hands empty of reverence or song.
They did not hear the sap cry out,
nor the small bird scream from its broken home.
O murderers of shade and silence,
what did you gain from such noise?
The world grew smaller when you fell,
and even the wind forgot its music.

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