Lonely Beginning [REVISED]

I can’t prove anything to anybody - what
can I convey that will make a difference?
The rich grow richer - thus I want my kids
to grow rich; the poor grow poorer - and I
cannot condone such senseless increase
in needy people. What movie do I want to
see, when can we go down to the ocean?

And how can I explain that a pure, robot
voice sings perfectly, every note in place
but it can’t move me - yet another voice,
younger, vibrating beautifully, drives me
to tears? How to lock on to good things
when gloom envelopes my beloved who
has to retire in prime of life? I beg him

to build himself a work space - enjoy his
hobbies of woodwork & ironmongery at
home, but he waits for financial security
before moving forwards, ere committing
to anything - my heart is melting in me;
how do I keep breathing, what to do in
this misery of wasted opportunities, of

waiting for reincarnation in a dimension
completely new and unheard of to learn
what companionship, warmth and joy is
really like? My heart is cold, my mind is
empty. It is impossible to visualise Hope,
Faith and Belief because I’ve lost all of
it - & how can I infuse my existence with

positive expectation as well as relax into
peace and beauty of a life of ease? So -
please, please, rekindle the flame of life
smouldering within my heart, let me revisit
wonder of existence v nothingness - or am
I to believe that again this is the legacy of
a lonely beginning to life?

[Wednesday 24 January 2018]

Try Again [REVISED]

I eat my unsweetened yoghurt with religious
fervour then wander down convict emergency
stairs in the new office building - desperately
trying to sing “Your Love” by Morricone - but
my voice can’t achieve my aspirations to soar -
frustrated I have to concentrate on the murder
case to be translated while my desire for free-
floating song remains unfulfilled: how I long to
rise with the notes unto heaven - and to float
down the street on a song spiralling in the air,
but such is not to be; I try to sing the song under
my breath in the passages without disturbing my
colleagues; you can imagine outcomes of that -
but still the desire for freedom of sound vibrating
through me is stronger than my rational faculty
and I run to the stairs to try again…

[Original 23 January 2018
Revised 24 January 2018]

Lonely Beginning

I can’t prove anything to anybody – what
can I prove that will make a difference?
The rich grow richer, so I want my kids
to grow rich, the poor grow poorer, so I
don’t want a senseless increase of poor
people. What movie do I want to see?
And when can we go down to the sea?

And how can I explain that a pure, robot
voice sings perfectly, every note in place,
but cannot move me, but another voice,
younger, vibrating beautifully, drive me
to tears? How to lock on to good things
when gloom envelopes my beloved who
has to retire in the prime of life? I beg him

to build himself a work space to enjoy his
woodwork and ironmongery hobbies at
home, but he waits for financial security
before moving forwards, ere committing
to anything - my heart is melting in me –
how do I keep breathing, what to do in
this misery of wasted opportunities, of

waiting for reincarnation in a dimension
completely new and unheard of - to learn
what companionship, warmth and joy is
really like? My heart is cold, my mind is
empty and it is impossible to visualise
Hope and Faith and Belief – because

I’ve lost all of it – how can I infuse my
existence with positive expectation and
relax into the peace and beauty of a life
of ease? Please, please rekindle the fire
of life in my heart, let me feel the wonder
of existence versus nothingness – is this
the legacy of a lonely beginning to life?

[Tuesday 23 January 2018 Sechaba House,
Pretoria]

Behind The Light

Weak coffee to stay awake in the gloom of a
darkened office, blinds drawn against Africa’s
sun burning with incandescence destroying life,
head compressed, pressure forcing down every
thought - and a black burka skirt in the freezer

As protection against the flames burning from
the pavements and streets, a spray can and a
frozen bottle of water to wet my head when dis-
comfort becomes too much; my brain has been
destroyed to the point that I have no capacity

To retain positive feelings which sink as soon as
I tasted their joy and elation – leaving me with the
the bitter taste of hopelessness and fatigue – this
is no life, it’s merely a sad existence and only the
challenge of trying to survive the murderous march

Later in the day, gives a sense of purpose to this
quiet struggle against the overpowering blackness
which reigns on the inside behind the light…

[Monday 8 January 2018]