goats’ bleats
and the unmistakable sound
of the ice cream man
from the shacks
in front of me
i can hear them clearly
from the top of
the koppie
i walk barefoot over rocks that
can’t stop sobbing
i have never felt so light before
my skin traversed by
a wind with no blood
yet heavy
with too many mourning moons
a feeling of rebirth
slices through my toes
interrogates my role
in this place
where human beings could not distinguish
right from wrong
i straighten fallen crosses
plant them with stones
that know my name
until they stand so strong
the stars will stop to
stare at them
screams of runaway miners
tattooed in the grains of
gravel graveyards
i can taste the colour of their pride
a love for all that is alive
stronger
than any tank or bullet
these men
did not die in vain
marikana, 2/12/2013