Foto: Canva
Welgevonden revisited
The circuitry of Welgevonden
never comes to rest.
A dynamo or water pump
takes over from the rest.
Menial workers clad in beige,
as befits their lowly station,
work at the conveyor belt
without the hope of variation.
For Henry each day is an initiation,
a new door to a mystery,
the grandeur of the Silbersteins
and Welgevonden’s history.
The naked figure behind the window,
could that be Salome, his appointed bride?
Henry is struck by awe and wonder,
and has no choice but to abide.
Dr Jones and Judge O’Hara,
potbellied and owl-masked,
debate about good and evil,
which Henry finds bland and unasked.
Jock defines democracy,
where each one finds their place,
the individual is absorbed
without a name or face.
Insights come with contradictions,
old views must be swept aside.
After each intriguing evening,
hints point to the unseen bride.
The Boers are the nobility
as Henry needs to learn.
These are the kind of truths
that crop up at each turn.
“Henry, my dear friend!
If you want to come aboard,
get rid of your safari suit
and dress more like a lord.”
Tension builds and hours crawl by
as Henry and Salome’s stars
move into conjunction
while the seventh day draws nigh.
Then the pivotal moment,
the unveiling of the bride,
followed by the vows of love
as they stand by each other’s side.
Is this the envisioned salvation,
the ideal how things should be,
or a world destined to crumble,
that only the elect foresee?
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Pragtig!