Foto: Canva
Quick on two legs, a claw on your first finger,
you wandered, fast running messenger of Kirkwood,
in the Eastern Cape of millions of years ago,
in a world without receiving your own name.
Today, your name comes from words that allow
you to invite in the past. It is an invocation
to live in a language of wind at dusk,
speech from dreams beyond the graves of giants.
You have new meaning through these sounds,
now that they link and stick to you.
You invite me too to live in sounds so
familiar to me, yet still undeciphered
So that through this language
I see you like an unknown neighbour
but so close to the border between you and me;
the true form of perhaps all our relations.
Kommentaar
Wow, and it is only time that separates the known from the unknown or unseen. I love this. When I drive through the Karoo, these creatures that roamed the then marshes and lowlands remind me in my thoughts they were there and they were real and that there is so much I do not know. What a great reminder of the greatness there was, long ago.
Beautiful poem