Staan ‘n wipplank in die park
staan twee lyfies wat wil ry
Verwagting en Ontnugtering
die teenpole in my
Sit ‘n witkop met haar kekkel
sit ‘n swartkop met sy kreun
wat beurtelings
die swaarste weeg
momentum bly verleen
aan die heen-en-weer
die speletjie
van soek
na vind
of val
Weet die ritme laat my seesiek
weet die speelgrond maak my mal.
Love
is too much
of a la-la word
so I’m not
gonna point it at you
still I write
I yearn
for a spark
a term
that will translate
what is true
I’ve brought many words
to many things
but to you
I will give
my silence
to you alone
THIS space:
beyond
my tongue
just a fool
undone
in the fullness
of Your face.
Gaan ons mekaar
dan miskyk
deur gedeelde tafels en tyd
gesels oor die weer
hiberneer
en ontwaak in ou verwyt
gaan ons mekaar
dan mergel
met die waarheid
wat ons weerhou
leef met die skrik
die stom en die stik
as die nasmaak nagmaal hou
sal ons mekaar
vergewe?
as ons mekaar
verwoes?
of is die bitter
van ons beker
hierdie keuse
om te koes?
I found a ten year tattoo
on this thing called me and you
a tricky sense
of permanence
and trust
but the textures of our ink
will shift
and shake
and sink
and leave us with
a blurry shade
of dust.
When I say that God is good
I’m not pointing
to my blessings
I’m referring to
the fact
that I
can
breathe
the outside
the everything
still roars above my anything
rendering
me breathless
to believe
that He
is the maker
of miracles
that He
is the inbetween
the search
the find
and the tremble
the towering Unseen.