Oh, it was beautiful When I had but you to fill When I was one part shadow Two parts echo A gecko on the walls of your heart Through your halls I roamed Silent from the start Quiet till the end I called you home I called you friend I was hauntingly unaware Of [...]
She spun a cocoon The colour of a silent moon Around what remained Of her lost and un-gained. She bound bone to bone Stitched smile to song And calmly coloured her cries In the shades of reason gone wrong. But when she saw That her loss was a learning curve And her being Not a [...]
You were beautiful in Borneo Like a song I’d been expecting To start playing on the stereo I was fragile when you found me A lifetime’s worth of sorrow And disappointment built around me But you gave me a standing ovation A merry-go-round of applause And cut through my curt conversation With your musical mixed [...]
Jy was ‘n silwer seisoen Versier met groen verassings Ek was natuur se weduwee Winter-kaal en kleurloos. Jy kon duidelik sien My siel was was vas betrap In ‘n gebreekte grafsteen. En ek het niks geweet Van roomys drome, wilger bome Of die heiligheid van somer reën. Ek sal nooit vergeet Hoe, in die sterlig [...]
I wanted to love you But I didn’t know how Or when or where To start. I couldn’t find a space Between the abrasions on your heart On which to lay my head. I tread softly between The tearing tissue As you bled. But I couldn’t find a place To build my happiness From your [...]
Jy laat my dink aan fynbos en heuning Ek voel jou rustigheid in my spiere se spanning In die spasies tussen my kinderdae En die masker wat ek deesdae dra Skenk jy vir my ‘n kussing Daars ‘n sagte plek in die holte van jou nek Waar my trane versamel en verdamp Jou woorde weef [...]
Die ou vrou sit en pyp rook op die stoep Terwyl die son sak Sy sien my raak En begin te roep. Sy sê, “Kind Kom bietjie nader.” Sy sê, “Kind Jy lyk net soos jou vader.” Met krag Wat ek nooit sou verwag nie Gooi sy haar arms om my lyf Sy druk my [...]
She is free She lives her life as a book with intricate pages I can smell them on her. I smell books on my mother. She reeks of their shrieking, pongs of their pulsing. I cry her a book With my tears, I mold a wet life for us My mother makes me cry because [...]