At Peace

• 

Details

Written May 2017

Rest peacefully in that other place,
Shadowed by the creator;
A place made, but shrouded
In the mystery of the unknown,
Where love is pure
And welcome is without condition,
Where the unknown becomes known
And the forever becomes now.

Take me there,
Where the incomplete becomes whole
In the knowledge that faith brings;
Where hopes are translated
From the uncertainty of doubt
Into the substance of what's real.

May 2017

Psalm 91:1

District Six Lament

• 

Details

Written June 2014

There's turmoil deep within as I listen;
Raging torrents of anger spilling over
And crashing onto the rocks of time;
Space invaders robbing innocence,
Their bulldozers destroying walls
That might have opened things up
But instead created separation,
You from me, each from all,
Communities of coexistence broken,
Yet failing to destroy our humanity.

The memories linger in haunting echoes;
Battering rams emptying a hall,
Balconies pulled down, seven steps destroyed,
Mortar ripped apart, brick after brick,
Dust from debris, ash from asphalt.
Yet the indestructible survives in seeds
Floating on gusts of the south-easter
Blowing where it wills across the bay
Distorting aliens left over from the past,
Germinating fynbos which springs up
On the bleak emptiness of the blank page
Which blossoms like the rose with your pen
Healing the spirit in life reborn.

Silence then might have been wordless fear;
Silence now is wordless love
As we face an unknown tomorrow together,
While the torrent settles in the calm of today.

June 2014

For some the anger that resulted from the destruction of Cape Town's District Six in the 1970s remains.

Journey to an Empty Cross

• 

Details

Written April 2017

She'd have been there herself - unafraid
Alongside the despised and rejected,
Facing the ignominy of crucifixion,
With love perfected if ever it could be,
Yet sharing with a solidarity of her own.

But today she herself is nailed up,
Pinned down by a seat-belt in a wheelchair,
Maybe hoping for a little of the leftovers
That might enhance her own dignity.

But the cross stands empty, deserted,
A forlorn icon; a few stale bread crumbs
With drops of wine, once body and blood.
But her self-worth grows when she senses the love
Of those welcoming her as the one crucified.
 
April 2017 

Matthew 25:35-40

Click here to listen 

The Other Dagga Smoker’s Prayer

• 

Details

Written June 2013

Leaves rolled into gum poles
Lined up with the law
Separating thee from me – 
Saviour from Sinner;
Released from Pollsmoor
And already wooed into hiding
Behind the bushes of Grassy Park
Past the mosque on Busy Corner
Where the hippos laugh with a calf,
Jaws open, devouring the statutes
Stored away and tied up with pink bows.
 
           So thank you, God
           For the joys of a Puffing Billy
           Chuffing away in our dreams,
           On sleepers rolled out for the railway
           Taking us to Never-Never Land,
           Where all we’ll want is another draw
           Tranquilised into clouds of unreality,
           Looking left and right in case there’s a cop
           Though all they’d want is one of ours
           Before we’re back to square one
           As they lock us up.
 
These weeds be cursed and deeds reversed;
We’re trapped and sapped of goodness
When I know I should be rid of it.
But the habit dies hard,
Surviving until we fizzle out,
Becoming nothing but a human
With a sizzled brain, reduced to ash
That goes up with the smoke
That signals a new-found pope.
Maybe he’ll hear my cry,
Grasping at something like straw.
 
June 2013 

Around Zeekoevlei in the Cape Peninsula, South Africa.

See also A Dagga Smoker's Prayer