Feel Safe

There are seventeen cross streets to pass on my way
to Alet, the only colleague who reads my poetry; not
to lose courage and turn too soon or too late, I shall
memorise the last 7 street names: Fred Nicholson -
where Mother grew up; Hertzog, the long ago South
African President; Louis Trichardt, the Dutch Settler
who led an ox-wagon group to a new life - far from
the regime in the Cape; Meyer, an old school friend,
Naudé, surname of Wena Naudé, an actress in the
Seventies who visited our school

Then De Beer, I have no reference for it BUT it’s the
final one in which to turn right into Eleventh Street &
turn left - there I’ll find my colleague; suddenly Sister
Self-Righteous strikes and takes the paper from me:
‘You don’t need all this, it’s too confusing, just follow
my lead – into Steve Biko, keep in the second lane
from the right, where the road splits turn right & there
you are, as easy as THAT - ignoring my explanations
that street names make me feel safe as I lost my way
without street names to guide my car

I drove past the café where my colleagues gathered
& ended up in a shopping centre parking garage from
which I couldn’t escape - without street names I feel
bewildered; quietly this postulant dug up the paper &
repeated the street names ignoring the brilliant advice
Sister Self-Righteous gave trying to take over my life,
yet THIS postulant still goes her own way…