Foto: Canva
For Marita Brink
There are ways
A human condition
Can cross
Into the darkness and depths
An ear, a fortitude of wisdom,
That one person who
Can reckon with the places
And spaces
Where no one wants to cross.
You listened, a cave of echoes,
A rule of human law unknown before
You held me, kindly,
But widely,
Without a judge
Or need of an argument,
Justification was overruled,
A quiet, deep mind waited,
And when spoken to,
She spoke less,
But when she spoke her words,
Were the ultimate defence,
Reference, and confluence.
She is that slant nodding voice
In the night when the ghosts haunt.
She is that silent deep eyed knowledge,
That takes you off the edge.