you walk, between
two worlds
we follow those steps
the seashores, robben island, the open
plains
the interstices between death &
vitality
the narrow path between my song & dance
you, a linguist of note
speak to us!
interpret, read the signs
make a song from the symbols
that dot these walls
for we so often
lost, adrift, bobbing uneasily
between the veils of translation
she works the words
from the stomach
through tongue & breath & spaces of
the skull
word by word
she weighs up
the men who stand before her
the words work & rework her
she invests them with breath
from worlds within
she rolls them on her tongue
she births them
in cool air
or sunshine
evoker
diplomat, broker, interloper
the vine joining ground & air
who will translate for us
the sea's utterances
the wind's murmers
the look of the kori bustard
the small fires that sputter & crackle
from the entrails of wet sticks
the small fires that sputter & crackle
from the entrails of wet sticks
the line of the pass
that bends through my mountain thoughts
that bends through my mountain thoughts
& pieces of land
that stand solid
as we migrate from outposts &
peripheries
to teaming centres
via farmers’ markets & trading posts
weaver of strands
hold us, your children
in your imagination
send us braided messages
send love & affection & chants
& sighs of longing
those feet walked
the calloused life
doubted here (at the kraal), mistrusted
there (at the fort)
inspected, suspected & suspended
in other's dreams
you dreamt of wanderings & walkabouts
as you donned the garb, buttoned up
stood in thin shade
cast by
the houses of colonialism
van riebeeck's orders
van meerhof’s manners
the tight fitting name: 'eva'
the controls & constraints
that flowed
from their pens
as they counted you & logged you
in diaries & registers
in your death
you – & we with you – escape this
we walk among shrubs, grow into trees,
embrace wind
we flow with the pain
we walk the shoreline
we walk the shoreline
the single mother
the abandoned partner
the searcher for meaning, in multiples abuses
searching for some truth
of a life in the margins
the lichen that stays
on rock
even as the tide retreats
you stand with us
renditioned, trafficked, exiled
simply ignored
or made to labour for bread & tots
when we are made to trade
cattle for goods
you walk alongside
the uncertain returnee
the desperate ones who come through beit
bridge
those stolen from africa
the children plucked & taken thousands
of miles
me, extrapolated & replanted in strange
settings
in your death
an astuteness, in your silence
a vocality
through your death
mishak can be swathed
in the eye
of the moment
jemma can wander the sky
cole can lope through landscapes
that existed in the time before time
when we toil away, or measure hours, offer
silent service
under the lash of the sun
when we
bear the unbearable
when we are overwhelmed
and fizzle out, succumbing
to nervous conditions
when depression
crawls over skin
like a shadow
may we think of you
may we think of the mopani tree, the boegoe
plant
the needles of the rooibos
the aloe & its healing bitterness
the acacia's thorn
used for stitching
& you .... a sturdy bough
Frank Meintjies
