My losses now lie quietly –
a landscape of perfect ruins, softly shining
with ferns and moss in the low light
Humming in baritone
the hypnotic harmonies of life
This is my home
where my bric-a-brac collects into
the shrines, clear pools,
orchards and warm beds
where I rutted
and bled
and prayed
and ate
and bathed
and slept,
transformed.
This is my flesh, sinew and bone-
rubble braided into canvas
for eloquent scars
in the aftermath of a war
to rescue love
Kommentaar
Gorgeous poem Charles. So devastating and yet elegant in equal measure.
Die oorspronklike was in Afrikaans:
LANDSKAP
========
My verliese is 'n stil landskap
van perfekte ruïnes
wat 'n bariton lewe neurie
met hipnotiese harmonie
in sagte lig
vol blare en boombasmos
Dit is my huis-
waar puin vervorm in
boorde, helder poele
bidplekke en warm kamers
vir naai
en bloei
en bid
en eet
en doop
en slaap,
hergeskape
Dit is my vleis, sening en been -
rommel gevleg tot gespanne doek
vir die skilder van elegante littekens
in die oorlog
om liefde te red