I am not an African
In fact I don’t like being an African
It’s so limiting
I am not an Indian
In fact i don’t like being an Indian
It’s so narrow
I am not even human
If being human means bekng limited
By definition
I am not my religion
it is so ancient
And sometimes not in a good way
I am not conjoined by race or creed
Not defined by race or greed
Of definition I have no need
I am not even myself
For that is selfish
In a fishy kind of way
I am not my consciousness
In an unconscious kind of way
I am not nothing
And I am not something
Not even everything
I am not a riddle
Or even an answer
and not a question
I am not my thoughts
Or what I am thought of
I am not this and certainly not that
I am not an African
a day to savour
A day to savour
For an eternity before
My day was your night
Your sun my moon
Twice we touched the same time
Thrice we whispered the same line
Once a day to savour
For an eternity in between
Disconnected at the shore
Before the volcano erupted
Timelines were corrupted
We were there before each other
On a day to savour
For an eternity thereafter
Days are days
Nights are nights
But in that winter’s mist
Your lips were kissed
Always this day to savour
The marikana report
The marikana report
cracked across the koppie
Distant and muted
Echoes in the congealed dust
Covered by hasty lust
Of protection not serviced
By an unstated state
Of perpetual unrest
The marikana report
Arms across the treasure chests
No bulletproof invests
Herded unheard
Wired and barbed
Strikers struck
What else can be read
Greed leads with lead
The marikana report
Brokers unbroken
Unions disunited
Affluence influential
Theories intellectual
Leaders ineffectual
What else to grieve
What else do we need
The Memorial Bench
When then I sat on this memorial bench
I dug my heels into its concrete setting
Exfoliating decades of jaundiced decay
Cake upon cake now flecked
I scraped harder
layer after archived layer
Now blooded under a smooth veneer
When then I regarded this memorial bench
I winced my eyes shut to the sea’s salty spray
Disinfecting decades of petrified icing
Spray after spray now benign
I waded deeper
Wave after unthinking wave
Now sleeping under a glassy smear
When now I sink into this memorial bench
I lift my gaze beyond its varnished timber
Unscaling decades of unsculpted relief
I chisel deeper
Coat after opaque coat
Now weathered under a forgotten care
When now I recline on this memorial bench
I am transfixed heavenwards beyond the racing clouds
Transversing decades of fettered headrest
I edge closer
Now barely remembered in memorial
And when I have flown away from this memorial bench
When the bird lines on my hand have been etched
When the needle leaves the hard ground undisturbed
When the waves leave the memorial bench submerged
When even memory of the memory is benched
When then I search for the memorial bench
I will still remember you
