You illuminate the world, its temples, its raison d’etre.
You’re the third world’s true tree of life, you embolden our resolve.
Without you, the post-apartheid banquet would lay in ruins.
In my thoughts you’re present in all my dreams, in the garden, in the forest, in the pasture, in the trenches. All my paths pass through your groves.
The angles collect your tears like the dew drops in the morning,
And store rich pearls as a bridal necklace,
New screams emerging from the cauldron of your wells,
From the inner core of your dispossessions.
Categories:
dispossessions, anger,
Form: Free verse