Calmly creeping towards the house
Tap-a-tap, tap-a-tap, tap-tap,
The memorized knock;
The password;
Hoping she will open before the
dog barks,
And bites like this night’s cold.
Clouds are shadows in the
heavens,
Trees make shadows on the ground,
For animal and me to ghost under:
Bushmen of the twentieth century.
The moon doesn’t blink,
Time tick-tocks on,
The colonialist couldn’t
civilize,
The Son Of Man couldn’t be
accepted:
Africa, the land of stones and
flesh,
The rocks and hearts,
The visible darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Read, share and comment! Glad to have you!