Sunday, July 24, 2011

The clouds

The clouds have come to cry
o’er this land, South Africa,
like the grief that overspills
one who cannot sleep.

It’s a drip and drop that ne’er will cease
until the past is broken up
and scattered on the winds of time
like dust of no significance.

But dust, you know, the dust of life,
the foundation of the masses,
builds and grows, accumulates,
to turn nothing into something.

Not a rock but a storehouse
of grief and pain, heartache, loss,
all the joys childbirth can bring,
and love in all its many forms.

Sad to say there ne’er can be
a storehouse broken down and lost
but I and you can build anew
based on a different view ~
as soon as, as soon as,
we push the clouds away!


  1. Very deep...I like all of your poetry that I have read, you have a wonderfully unique voice.

  2. Thank you, Judith. I guess at the end of the day we all do things our way. :) Sometimes, however, it takes a long time to be and live as ourselves when amongst so many other people's needs. Take care!