Lip service
08:58 11 November
in Rhyme
They say fake it
till you make it
I think stop
and start where you’re at
pretense is a paused progression
and a prattling one, at that.
Inches
down where the spirit
meets the bone
I have built
have wrecked my home
the inbetween spaces
the unexplained
where expectant eyes
are met
then maimed
down where the spirit
meets the bone
I have hidden
sought and shown
recurring promise
repeated pride
the pendulum
the tick
the tide
down down where the spirit
down down in my bones
clashes
claws
martyrs
moans
an inch
to life
at the heart of me
is death undone
is agony
The smile
16:03 15 October
in Weeskinders
I was moody that day, and too irritated to ask myself why. Constantly biting back the sharp things my mind produced, begging to be flung at everybody who crossed my path.
I attended all my meetings, won every argument, and quickly lost what was left of myself. By lunchtime even my shadow was long gone. It’s science you know? They leave with the light. Some things are wonderfuly predictable that way.
My anger marched ahead like a forcefield. Demanding to be known, to be felt. Gripping its jaws around every inch of calm or kindness, craving the rip. The scream.
The wake of my resistance set the pace. Drumming out an angry rhythm, and I was determined to follow. Giving myself willingly. Wildly. Screaming at every inch of every thing. Even outraged at the audacity of the air that would dare to touch me without granted permission.
I arched my back, threw my head, and hurled my rage towards the sky. Begging the world for battle!
And that was the moment when, by some miracle, I noticed Him.
Smiling at me. Of all things.
Smiling!
Showing me kindness. Loving on me. Beaming the warmth of His eyes across my every inch. Unaffected by my… well, by me. Living beyond the reach of change. Even mine.
In the days there after I would encounter His smile just as I did in the days before,but the specific shade of THAT smile has been warming my heart and cooling my fear ever since.
You see – He is unafraid. Even of us.
Fraksioneel
‘n Stilte
‘n droogte
‘n skeur:
skrikwekkend middeldeur
‘n Skreeu
‘n skrik
‘n val:
verpletterende knal
‘n Bang
‘n pleit
‘n smeek:
die lewensglans ontbreek
Sirenes
hande
gryp
om die lekplek toe te knyp
Spoed
bevele
stop
lig sy voete los sy kop
‘n Pomp
‘n Steek
‘n Sny
en toe glip sy gees verby.
Liggeraak
Daar’s ‘n son wat aanhou
opdaag
om ons lewenskring te voed
met sy ligbad
en sy vasvat
en sy geel genade gloed
daar’s ‘n son wat aanhou
opdaag
om die nag se steel te stop
met vlamkoors in sy are
en ‘n fakkel op sy kop
en ons ou aarde
draai om en om
ons klein blou
beweeg
en die son
hang hoog
in die hemelboog:
die vuurvaste strateeg.
The void
If all the things
that’s left unsaid
would gather in a cloud
and pierce the sky
in poignant cry
sharp
and shrill
and loud
if all those words
came pouring down
if all those questions fell
symphonical apologies
and minuettes from hell
the earth might sigh
a slow relief
her hidden drought destroyed
the birds might shrink
and turn their backs
anxious
and annoyed
and we might live
despite the glare
of brightened understanding
or drown amidst
the fatal force
of being too demanding.
Volkslied van die vreemdes
Ons is die onbekendes
die vermoeides
die gestremdes
die hangkopwilg se blare
die vlam se vlek en roet
ons is die bitter banneling
wat die dag galstarrig groet
ons is ‘n honger oomblik
die hartklop van die snik
die blindheid van die bedelaar
die tong se sleep en stik
ons is die ver vervreemdes
die gewondes
die ontneemdes
die donker dood
se kopbeenkraak
wat oor
en oor
in pyn ontwaak
ons is ons is
oorbodig
ons is so sielsgevlek
die smeerstreep
en die skadu
wat oor elke ligpunt lek.
SARS
Die oorlogsklok
het pas gelui
‘n string beseerdes
sluip verby
want dis hier waar vreemde voete leer:
‘n slagtydskaap
word aangekeer
die syfers is ‘n landmynveld
marsjeer op tippetoon
prosedures is ‘n slangsersant
kom sidder
en kom stoom
want die troepe is eenvoudig!
die troepe is te swak!
die troepe is sy suikerriet
wat hy een
vir een
sal knak.
Nuweling
Die Nuutmaker
het my beetgekry
opgesaal
en fiks gery
ingeskryf
vir ‘n uithourit
en ‘n vlegsel in
my nek gesit
want die Nuutmaker
maak alles nuut
die Nuutmaker
maak mooi
die Nuutmaker
kan meer hanteer
as ‘n mensehand se plooi
die Nuutmaker
se oog sien skerp
die Nuutmaker
lag breed
oor die dieptes van
my binneman
wat hy nog uit gaan meet
Die Nuutmaker
het my goed gery
die heuwels en
die hel verby
tot ‘n blink salpeter
uitslaansweet
my ware kleure
uit sou meet
ek buig
en buig
voor Sy werke
ek buig
en buig
want ek’s klein
sien:
die Nuutmaker
het ‘n perd gekerf
toe ek
nog hond was
op my werf.
Versadigingspunt
‘n Saad
kan homself
nie ontkiem nie
‘n saad
is so dood
soos beton
maar ‘n saad
hou die kode van oorvloed
‘n grootheid
‘n godheid in hom
‘n Saad
hoef homself
nooit te vrees nie
die doodsheid
lok lewe
bring vrug
die Saaier se hand
bring die asem
die wonder
die water
die lig.
Lessons from Hong Kong 1.1
07:07 16 August
in Weeskinders
In typhoon season
a strong house
trumps a big house.