CELEBRATING BEAUTIFUL SOULS
CELEBRATING BEAUTIFUL SOULS
I am sitting under the oak tree
A gentle breeze breezes through
Willfully wafting freely through
My mind runs through the dance floor
My mind pages through the podium
Yes, the sound and soul of my singers
Singers, poets and word mixers
Real writers of my heart
Real word makers of all times
Yes, those are the real people
Who knew the use of words
Who knew what to mean with meaning
I recall the name of Maya Angelou
I remember her passion and wisdom
When she confirmed to us all
When she told the story of a caged bird
So painful was the story she told
Her voice reverberates even more
I remember when she said:
“The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom”
I now know which bird she meant
What an advocate she was
For the caged bird was my soul
For the caged bird was my spirit
How cruel man can be
Incarcerating and incinerating others
When the world belongs to all
Maya must have seen life
For she had seen a million men march
Through the Million Man March poem
Yes, Maya you knew the secret
So true Maya
“The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep”
I just wonder why they marched
I just wonder where they were marching to.
Thank you Maya I will celebrate you
But still Maya
The pit is still dark
And the walls are still steep
Just after you
I am seeing Wally Serote
Our there in his township Alexanda
A township that has become his mother
Sing Wally if you can
I know you could not divorce your mother
Much as you say:
“But we have only one mother, none can replace,
Just as we have no choice to be born,”
I remember Ingrid Jonker
When she passionately spoke of the child
Whose body was riddled by bullets
By a brutal bullet of the then system
I vividly remember her saying:
“The child is the shadow of the soldiers
On guard with guns saracens and batons
the child is present at all meetings and legislations
the child peeps through the windows of houses
and into the hearts of mothers”
Yes, Ingrid the child cannot die
The child in me keeps growing
The child is always there
Longing and yearning for a tomorrow
A tomorrow of hope and hype
A tomorrow without the signs of poverty
A real tomorrow for a better dream
Hi! Don’t make cry again
Chinua Achebe was right
Things really fall apart
If the centre does not hold
We are indeed no longer at ease Chinua
Since culture and morality died
We steal the stolen from ourselves
We rape the mother who mother us
This cannot be true
Sleep well Achebe
Now that you are gone
Be at ease with yourself
The world is rich and small
The world is full of beauty
Dennis Brutus was right
“I would rather dance with the daisies”
Rather to sleep and eat poverty
I will rather dance without a tune
Rather than smile to the sea of hunger
I would rather die in sunlight
Rather than to watch you suffer
‘People Arise, the world is dead”
Oh! My Alan Paton
Africa remains my music
Mphahlele had said
Despite the ills and its pains
I will not celebrate the world of poverty
I will celebrate the word
For in the beginning was the word
The word was long with us
The word that dwelt among us
The word that was the creator
Oh! I am celebrating the soul of life
I am celebrating the beauty of life
Thank you my children
Take care of the flowers
They shall breathe life into your souls
I must just stop here
My people have spoken volumes
I will not spoil their word.
.
(2015)
An expression of appreciation for the beautiful work of some writers who have influenced my life so imensely
