Dreams Die Then..

cnv00152cnv00133

In SA, N. Cape with Marcus-our school Principal, a friend and Marcus’ wife. In the fantastic open spaces in NC-loved the horizons.

 

Aw things appear or gang awa

lik the soond o an echo

the clouds in the lift

the muin on the watter

the fire-flaucht, the sea faem,

the trail o a bird as it flees

or the veesion o dwams efter walkin.

Taisen Deshimaru

 

 

Last Passenger

The last person left the Prison bus

Robben Island tour over Mandela’s cell visit ticked off.

 

How history’s stream flows beyond the temporal bones

Of the dead and living or the incontinent camera-laden

 

They leave the bus headed for the ferry

(Nae a wee dart tae Iona let it be said S.T.).

 

I stay and ask the Xhosa speaking Guide

‘Now?..’

Like the rocks Madiba ground down into dust

The dream, it seems, has gone.

The steel in the secular saint’s legacy dissipated.

 

All things are possible and the impostors can gain

Even the highest podium to plunder.

 

And other leaders, other faiths must be lost

Carved, bound then found or the young breathe

‘Betrayed.’