Sunday Best
I see it so clearly now.
Poetry
Fences of Days Gone By, Walls of Days to Come
My common sense was Katlehong’s broken lens Smug as I watched uTamkhulu and his friends Jest and dig pole size holes for our fence Suddenly loose lipped voices turn tense “Food or freedom?” said an all too familiar voice Sarcastic, mocking the suggestion of choice The conversation lost amity, the jest lost poise My eyes
Fences of Days Gone By, Walls of Days to Come Read More »
Her
I’m usually right in my headBut I pamper you in so many ways I’ve disappeared abruptly,Not because of any malice butBecause my hands have been used for survivalSo much so I forgot how to hold flowers (tulips) And I damn myself— I’m protecting youFrom the same man who would burn the world for