we call all the fires of africa together
below this ocean sky thrilling surf, gulls,
wind, and your breath and my breath
(i want what sounds of you, again,
and to share this, it is yours too)
madiba, i never had the chance to ask
where you buy your shirts
i admired them so.
(your widow is so sad
that makes me saddest)
you are the melody of doves in the sunday trees
before church, mornings when we knelt by our beds
and prayed. i, too wary not to and the rest, righteous and sure.
we sat in sturdy pews, virgin whites , imagining our own deaths,
our eyes unsinkable in tears, and before lunch we floated back,
rivers of milk, hearts aglow, eyes ablaze, hats aflow,
girls of gold and silver
we may have met that time; robben island as
mythical as the small boat for rough seas,
the large boat for calm oceans,
(it made no sense to me at all)
the sun mostly kissing shoulders
as i sat on that deck, nose filled
with bamboo, fish, brine, waves, wind,
the odd dentist,
i, in love with your prison isle
and that sky. we shared the blue
table mountain view,
mine from it, yours to it,
twice a week
heavens square and limitless blue, mine.
small blue squares limited view, yours.
years later those perfectly painted
light white boxes, ice cubed
in large trays, the trip on the boat
felt fake then, the buildings too
for i remembered too well the vacation feel
eons ago, for me, this side and
for you, that side of the barbed wire
unaware and untainted, we moved,
some barely touched by sharpeville.
we did not know your heart then and your
evertolerantyourtolerance
yourbenevolenceyourliberty
that the death of you is
the celebration of you
i recognize now the release that you had
borne in a heart without bars without
the colour of your skin without
the colour of my skin, your redemption
blooming in our lives like sunflowers
with a mind peppermint and sun,
open, free and you turning it into an
uncommisioned gift that
you paid forward, like your royalty
like your loyalty
madiba, i never had the chance to ask
where you buy your shirts
i loved seeing them on you.
(your widow is so sad
that makes me saddest)
ever together, you were still a part,
that set me free,
heart mirrored free heart
one grassland one savannah
the regift of unshackled surplus issue
and love to match
each our own
the same together
your widow is so sad
while your great grandchildren play
seasofme171213yebo
