At day’s end when golden rays slide silently into shadow running through the shorter colours of the rainbow while sun’s bright disk is swallowed by dark waves I wonder, what did I achieve today?
Unlike dawn with her sacred dazzling promise of a brand new day and a fresh clean start another tiny chapter of life has closed one more page has turned, waves washing over sand, erasing.
I sit on the sun-worn steps gazing out at the ocean her timeless waves her heart beating and wonder what might tomorrow bring?
The image shows a view of the setting sun over a body of water. In the foreground, you can see wooden steps leading into the water. Grey clouds are drifting in the sky.
The wheel spins which one will win? how much has each invested? This week’s wage a watch, a car? Too much, for sure don’t doubt it. The stakes are high their dreams are huge the risk of loss is greater. Don’t bet your life on the draw of a card for only the house always wins.
Come, join hands let’s walk together our hushed feet will fall softly on verdant ground pause by the sapphire stream listen to lush sounds murmuring water rustling leaves bird song, insects whirring breathe in, breathe deeply scents of the earth fragrance of flowers close your eyes breathe in, breathe out taste the emerald air feel the dappled golden sun warming your face here, safe, embraced enfolded by nature let us share our stories in our woodland bower.
The image shows shows a tree trunk. We can see hands placed next to each other along the length of the tree trunk. The hands belong to people of different race, age, and gender.
far from the cares of everyday life away from the sorrows away from the strife sitting together on a distant shore watching the tide washing in washing out as the sun descends and the stars appear breathing in breathing out being mindful just being
People gather on the streets a bottle’s thrown petrol flares…
Shelves are cleared bags are stuffed snatch a shopping cart fill it to the brim seize a hi-fi grapple with a fridge snatch another shopping cart come back for more!
Grab your phone tell your friends the shelves aren’t empty yet and not a cop in sight…
We might pick up the pieces we might mend fences but it’s going to be a long road back.
The image shows a bust of a man. A dark thick liquid is being poured on it.
Important note: this poem was written from the photo prompt. The fact that it shows a dark liquid being poured on a white figure should not be taken as a representation of the violence that has occurred here in South Africa. The victims of the violence are primarily Black African-owned small businesses whose shops have been destroyed in shopping centres and malls, and the staff who work in the big retail outlets there.
From the very first time I stepped onto the continent of Africa in 2003, that moment when I put my foot onto the tarmac at Cape Town airport, I felt a strange tingle in my bones; I felt I’d come home. So far as I’m aware, I have no family roots anywhere on this huge continent, but nevertheless, I felt an affinity with the land. Even before connections and coincidences led me and my husband to start another chapter in our lives in South Africa, ten years ago, I’d become fascinated with the landscape, the wildlife and the people who’d foraged along the shores and wandered over the wide, scrubby grasslands of the veld.
The story of the original inhabitants of what is now the Western Cape is a sad one of exploitation, displacement and dispossession, all so tragically similar to many of indigenous populations across the world. I’ve followed my fascination with those early people, the Khoisan through works of both fact and fiction – there’s a reference list of books I’ve read at the end of this post – but it’s their legends and customs that have increasingly inspired my writing.
A nod or two to those landscapes and traditions have wormed their way into my most recent novel, Song of the Sea Goddess, and the so far unnamed sequel I’m busy with now, but for the most part my inspirations have manifested themselves in some of the short pieces and poems which I’ve shared here on my blog, like my San Man stories last year, and more recently, my micro-fiction series, Owab and Aquila.
Also last year, when the opportunity arose, I wrote a handful of poems inspired by the legends and landscape of South Africa to submit for inclusion in Creation and the Cosmos – a Poetic AnthologyInspired by Nature, edited and published by the talented tara caribou of Raw Earth Ink. I was delighted to have all five of them accepted and to have my words included amongst the poems and photographs of a such a wonderfully talented group of creatives. Here’s one.
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Call of the maiden
The breeze-caressed veld sways sending dry waves to break on a distant shore whirlwind dust-devils dance over bare earth rising up to be scorched into stillness.
Evening swells across the veld and the thorn-tree’s shadow reaches out with tendril fingers to caress the smudge-blue foothills.
As daylight fades, the breeze quickens and the new maiden emerges standing on the threshold of the distant koppie in that powerful place between hearth and wilderness.
She turns and kneels at the young man’s side offering herself to him. Limbs entwine and under the eyes of the ancestors they become one.
Darkness closes in and the great African she-moon rises pin-prick stars stab the violet-thick night and now the once-maiden cries out her triumphant ululation echoing across the empty veld.
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