(7 poems)
by Chestlyn Draghoender
Om te let go
som brase hetti lyn ni
en kan maak latte vroumens haaself haat.
dat sy haaself oek nooit kan vegiewe nie
al het sy niks vekeed gadoeni.
om brase sit met harte soes gabriekte glas
wat displei wod as haat en verwyte.
selfs hul biologiese kinnes lei daa’onner
en soe wodi ghep net groter.
os needi pastors en intersessors
ommi problems te solwi.
os need oeki mense wat kan interwien
om miracles te peformi.
os need net edoekeit dem, n bietjie kennis ienstil.
vanaf’i tyd wat hulle klein is tot nou
moet os hulle anni hand vat en hulle train
om te let go.
Dit is die Stilte
Dit is die stilte
wat dit so erg maak;
Die kommunikasie wat wegbreuk,
elke keer as jy probeer
++++praat.
Dit is die daad van wegloop,
van ignoreer
wat n mens vermink.
Die behoefte om gehoor te word
word onderdruk.
Die gebrek aan vertroue in die mens
word opgebou.
En voor jy jou
oë nog kan uitvee
is alles net
dood.
Revive
Dai curse moet gabriek wôd;
Die een met sy kloue all over jou lieewe
moet gabind wod.
Met sakke en al moet hy ytgasmyt wod,
lat hy plat op sy gat val.
Want mens kannie jaa in jaa yt
mettie selle ou twak
sit en ve’wag
dinge moet change’ie.
Want ôs bly nie kinnes’ie.
En net soes’ie ligaam
van sy ou goed onslae raak,
moet jy oek jou mind renew.
Soes end vannie jaa wanne jy celebrate
Krismis tot Nuwe jaa saamit jou pelle
wil jy mos ʼn skoon blad omslat.
Dan maak jou pride’ie mee saak’ie.
Mense ve’houdings,
vriend’likheid en goeie eienskappe
issie dinge wat tel.
Die lieewe is te kot ou pel.
Ek blame almal
Ek blame ie man,
wat skanne bring,
en nie sy pote vi homself ka hou nie.
Ek blame ie pastor,
wat vooskryf dat sy moet vashou,
moet vasbyt ter wille van hulle huwelik.
Ek blame ie kerk-broes en -sistes,
wat mien hulle vestaan waadee die kinnes
moet gan.
Ek blame sy familie oek,
wat sy vuilgoed toesmee oor hulle te bang is
om hom te konfrant.
Ek blame haar familie,
vi hulle gebrek aan liefde en support.
Wat maak asof hulle fokken liewens perfek is.
Ek blame albei se vriende,
wat voogie dat hulle omgie maar eintlik
lag hulle lekke.
Ek blame somma die hele fokken wereld, man!
Want as een ou opgetrie-it,
dan het sy vandag nog geliewe.
Deep Waters
Sometimes
when I think of you
my body trembles;
not with fear or shame
but with anger.
Sometimes
when we speak of you,
I cannot fathom how
a man can be so cruel –
your face too hard to look at,
your hatred like a virus,
ripping those you touch.
And I can see the signs –
a rigorous tongue
with broken humour;
I can smell the scent by which
everyone knows you.
But then
who knows the thoughts
of a man?
Fatigue
When some things go missing,
I usually look for them.
But not today. These two men
are like boys.
Running around, chasing snakes.
This wakes the baby.
Fatigue
Has no mercy on a person’s soul.
It will hold you in a corner,
and keep you there until you bleed.
This really moves me.
My eyes feel swollen.
Maybe it’s time I break away.
Enjoy sweet tea in good company,
until the late hours of the day.
This excites my friends.
I won’t be leaving any messages.
Luckiest Man
I remember the day
I glanced at her.
She was young
Yet mature for her age.
She went for a walk.
I followed my beauty,
Caught up with her,
Greeted her with charm and confidence.
The response was mutual
So I asked her out…
My beauty wanted to go
For a walk on the beach.
We walked and talked and laughed.
I took her to dinner then a dance.
In her long black dress
She looked like royalty.
I was the luckiest man.
I felt like a King.
I felt like I owned the building.
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