sky
§
are you
the river or am i
do i flow into the sea or do you flow into me
why is it when i try to slake my thirst you disappear
when you try, i appear
you have
never stopped calling me
i have never stopped answering you
whose longing elicited this longing in me
whose love buried me in sorrow
i, even i,
even as i am
know the loneliness of separation
as sails of clouds, like memories
flee across the windswept sky
you are
all that i love, all that i can love
yet how do i love you, know you, know that i love you
when all that you are remains unknown to me
and all that i am is known only to you
i carry
within me the grief of all loving
would you be different if i knew you
would i be different - can a flower know
what it means to be a flower
all the
silt of my journeying
all the salt of my yearning flows into you
and all longing, every love, all knowing, every loss
everything you are comes to rest in me
§
the rain glitters on the dark hair
of night like stars
to love
you as you are, is to love you as you were
when the first rain fell unknown to anyone but you
and we
surrendered to our separate destiny
even as you surrendered to us the closeness
of a rain
that has never stopped falling
calling us to the universe within us, within you
i hold you
close to me, closer than the clinging rain
not knowing if i let go of you, will you let go of me
or will
you hold me closer still
§
grant me dear god, in this new year
of dying
in this new year of dying that cannot end too soon
for death
nor begin too soon for love
a moment when i shall be unaware of who i am
or where or why but in love, neither knowing
nor caring
whether i am in love
whether i am in love with you or with someone
or something you love, having a love i may not have
without
which i may never be able to love you
without which i may never be loved by you
§
forty years later an
imperfect moon
unfolds like a water lily of the sky
gradually
another light
begins to lap the shores of night
now all
light is one
inward moon and outward sun
§
we are all christ
all crossed and mixed up
in one muhammad
moses, the buddha
all messed and mucked up
in one
body
lonely,
cold and alone
blind in one eye
not trusting the other
standing with our feet in flames
wanting to warm our hearts
§
in fear of the failing
light
i retrospect into the night
and find myself where i started
when the traveller first departed
the
harbour where it all began
the single-minded caravan
the lands and seas that i travelled
the mysteries i unravelled
loneliness
i’ve never conquered
to your compass i surrendered
resigned myself to the straight line
that would keep your heart close to mine
delirious
in my ship at sea
the starry sky was all to me
wheeled when clouds obscured my vision
in whirlpools of indecision
learning
survival from being stormed
i kept the heart and mind informed
preparing to receive from you
word of my impending rescue
casting
anchor within a bay
anxious to confirm my way
i hurried to the shore and found
a pilgrim kneeling on the ground
when
finally he spoke to me
i saw myself upon the sea
searching for an enduring sign
he asked to change his place with mine
i took his
camel, he my ship
i watched him go, he seemed to slip
past the horizon and was gone
alone again, i stumbled on
fixing my
sight upon a star
i laboured long, perhaps went far
till sunset and morning were one
and the darkness i sensed was done
i read a
cloud, i heard a stone
i wrote a poem on a bone
in sky and on earth i could see
the symbols of such unity
i dreamt
of him, my friend at sea
he gazed at me in ecstasy
i left him smiling and returned
to find my treasured day had burned
in fear of
the failing light
i retrospect into the night
recalling all i’ve seen and heard
each sound and shape, each wound and word
§
again i have lost you
through loving
less
when i should
have loved more
than i
know - even if i knew
with too much love i would die
and with me
the love
that keeps me alive
to love you still
§
before i close the book
i shall look into your eyes
and ask
will love still be possible
i know
your answer
was the book blank
or did it have words
did you find in it beauty
hear in it
music
did it lead you
to at least one friend
or were you entirely alone
§
at night
you gather
on my
heart
like dew
§
your music springs
from the furthest heaven in your heart
falls as rain falls
as tears fall
a myriad
particles of light
trapped in a myriad particles of darkness
a myriad particles of light and darkness
trapped in a myriad raindrops of softness
each unique, each essential, each complete
each drop
on falling explodes
and releases its light
a universe of music
from your soul
filling
everything with its searching
imbuing every particle
with longing for its creator
your pulse in every created thing
not hearing which would make us mad
§
when we love
he loves
when he
loves
we love
we only
love
him alone
when we
love
all that lives
only he
is only love
only we
can love as he
§
do not fade when i fade
do not forget when i forget
say
you cannot live without me
speak this untruth not to shame a friend
who
claims he cannot live without you
though he knows his love is flawed
but
ultimately all lies are true
when they stem from love for you
if
what i desire cannot be
of what use is this life to me
§
in the holy night of
power
is the still-unfolding hour
when you
cried as we do now
knew and yet knew not somehow
what it
means to take as slaves
those who love you till their graves
open wide
to let them in
hoping love is their only sin
sea
§
poem for ruxanna
coming
home after seeing doctor zhivago
you hold me close to you, searching for warmth
as if you were freezing in the ural snow
in the car
you look at me
with a flowerlessness i have not seen before
as you imagine i am leaving you never to return
at home
you say over and over
that you love me, with the intensity
of a rain that drenches the earth in a sudden storm
drifting
to sleep, your arms around me
you slowly relinquish the world of love
sharif, chaplin and christie revealed to you
this
morning as i write this poem
i think how, if you woke
you would come over and offer to make a cup of tea
you are
still asleep, neither tonya nor lara
there are no wolves baying outside
but i love you just the same
§
now that i
have counted your fingers and toes
and am satisfied that there are ten each of those
(as an accountant that much i should know)
i bring
you other trembling gifts -
all of myself, all that i am and am to be
i offer to you as a map, should you need one
as you
chart the course of your self’s journey, just begun
from your mother, milk warm and sustaining, like herself
drink well, it is good for you (your father should know)
from the
moon, the sun and the stars skyfulls of light -
but you will require an elevated heart, and a clear head
to discover their source, share their splendour
from the
mountains, the rivers and the sea
beauty you can one day either challenge, or cherish
and (a poet should know) enhance your own
then there
is rain, and earth as soft as your hands -
with care you might entice a seed to grow
revealing to you the secrets of its wondrous glow
and there
is god, who has brought you so safely to us
whose gifts i have carried to you, whose goodness
is beyond knowing (as one day you will surely know)
§
one does not simply
arrive in the world
aged thirty-five, with two volumes of poetry
university degrees, wife and child on hand
and stability that would make
a personnel consultant’s day
voluntarily
or involuntarily a great deal
has been jettisoned in getting to this shore
looking back to the journey’s beginning
one remembers the luggage one carried
how carelessly one took one’s youth and childhood along
when the
first storms struck one simply battened down
one’s belongings and hung on - as the storms grew fiercer
one’s childhood came apart and floated away
a consolation though was one’s youth remained intact
then came the dreaded decision to let youth go
so at
thirty-five, one picked up two volumes of poetry
abandoned the degrees, gathered wife and child
and climbed into a boat shaking like a rocking-horse
at the ship’s side - there was no panic, only a little fear
quickly replaced by a determination to reach the shore
one soon
settles down - as always there is much to do
not quite cut firewood - it is not that kind of land
but make new plans, chart new journeys
sometimes one returns to the shore hoping to find
traces of one’s youth or childhood still
§
in the game of loving
there are moments
when what
matters most is not the state of the pitch
the shine on the ball or the quality of the opposition
but the
catch when all seems lost, the ball falling
from the sky, hands outstretched as in prayer
the ball
safely held, warm as a hug
§
for tazkiyah
your
smile
reaching out
draws beauty in
your beauty
reaching
out
draws
love in
your
love
reaching
out
draws
god in
§
§
for
ilhaam
faraway
child, i thought you loved me
as i love
you, and you declare you do
then why
is this place of residence we call a home
filled
with such strange creatures - like a zoo
a bird
that is forever pecking at words
in books
sheltered from the keeper’s view
a squirrel
that ferrets and frets and feeds
and the
occasional leaping kangaroo
and the
lioness that thinks she is a lion
if what
they say about sleeping lions is true
faraway
child, sleeping or fleeing or flying
as you
grow away from me, i grow closer to you
§
for ameen
your words
often raged like fires
that
threatened to swallow
the earth
and the sky
where does
such pain come from
from love
is love
the stepping-stone to pain
and pain,
to higher love
is that
why we lost sight of you and you of us
where does
such love come from
from the
fire in the heart
where the
rain falls
the fiery
raindrops swirling ever faster
like
dervishes separating from themselves
as they
approach the moment
life
begins
again
§
for zeynep
you
abandoned your longing
on the
shore of silence
in
the hands of the waves
it has
become a flute
the
music will not stop now
until
it finds you - free again
to
live, to learn, to be alive
in
ways you feel alive and free
§
for
a victim of a flood in mozambique
3
march 2000
it was not
a yearning for knowledge
that led
you to the tree
but
seeking of another kind
safety
from a rain-driven flood
while we
slept each day the sleep of death
you stayed
awake for days afraid of sleep
we neither
heard your cry nor saw you fall
like
ripened fruit responding to a primordial call
§
i failed
to keep a promise i did not make
to shelter
you from the frailties of friendship
accumulating
loss you would not have known
had we
been true - strangers to ourselves and you
you sought
freedom from the suffocating sky
and the
future - by letting tomorrow die
§
the
sunset-stained sky
is a sea
of flames
the
burnt-out tide
lies like
ash on the shore
with your
grief i fashion a bird
night
cannot cage
its heart
the last blue of the day
in its
beak the leaf of a new moon
§
the poem
exists
within the
page
making it
visible
the heart
rewards
the eye
a kind of
wage
§
the
mountain
today
a cap of
cloud
a shirt of
rain
a tie of
stream
in flowing
disdain
mud-happy
feet
soaking
shoe-less fun
dirty-dancing
the day
away
mist
§
when the first slave was
brought to the cape
he looked at the awesome mountain
which roots us to an eternal beauty
hundreds of years later, and affirmed
i am as free and
as tall as this mountain
this mountain is more chained than i am
i will climb to the top one day
and call the adhaan before dawn
my voice will carry across the seas
to my loved ones in a land
i may never see
again
and they will know that i
and the treasures i carry within me
are safe and always will be
for as long as beauty
and this mountain survive
§
they call you mister steve biko now you’re dead
and though your death
may leave them cold, may leave them cold
they who tormented you when you were alive
call you mister steve biko now you’re dead
so many
garlands others have placed
around your neck, around your neck
and you’ve been given coverage
the size of a rugby field
now you’re dead, but you’re dead
the best
advocate in the land
was your voice, was your voice
and what does it matter what was said
at an inquest the best advocates in the land
may speak for the dead, but they’re dead
they call
you mister steve biko now you’re dead
and though your death
may leave them cold, may leave them cold
they who tormented you when you were alive
call you mister steve biko now you’re dead
§
the rain probes with a
million eyes
dark
crevices the sun has never seen
it lights
on every leaf
every
grain of sand it sees
and feeds
and cleans
you have
learnt from the rain
the
secrets of uncovering every secret
but
lacking the rain’s grace
penetrate
the mind of man
erode the
covering of his soul
leave him,
like imam haroon
violated,
shattered, cold
§
in one of
the country’s three ethnic houses of parliament
the
important matter of the breed and genealogy
of a
certain member of another was recently discussed
traces of
foreign interference
in the
domestic affairs of his ancestors
were dug
up by a fellow member
who is a
keen gardener
when he is
not a parliamentary bloodhound
which
could explain his interest in roots
and things
of that sort
the
debate, if one may believe the press
(and one
is inclined to) was very heated
causing
great excitement in the house
the
sporting members thoroughly
enjoying
the
blood-letting
ultimately,
blood being thicker than water
the spirit
of kinship prevailed
the
broederbond between members was reasserted
and the
object of the consanguine inquiry
warmly
invited to cross over
to the
house of his newly-discovered brothers
§
death
stalks the innocent and non-innocent
it enters
the townships hiding in casspirs
and
policemen’s uniforms - pretending to be a friend
it is
submerged in bottles of paraffin
and
surfaces when angered in a turbulence of fire
it comes
flying on stones or riding on bullets
when tired
it lies in pools of blood and dries
you think
it has gone but it always returns
sharp as a
knife
sometimes
it enters the city in a little bag
and
refuses to leave
clinging
like a limpet to a terrified building
it moves
across the land riding in trucks and tanks
sitting
jauntily on the shoulders of young soldiers
occasionally
pulling their caps over their eyes
it flows
through valleys, filters in with the wind
swoops
down from the sky, storms in with the tide
foraging
on the frenzy of men unsettled by the faltering sun
§
you
were no volunteer
no
one asked you whether you wanted to grow old
have
grandchildren
live
out your life like a potted plant
in
the brightest corner of your home
or
whether you preferred to have your memory
intertwined
with that of your killer
in
the recording of the birth of a nation
you
did not choose to die
you
were chosen
as
we are chosen now
to
wear the ashen garments of your pain
and
to remember and remember and remember
that
the bread lying on the table
broken
as the life you lost, is holy
because
of you
that
the mountains and the seas
the
rivers and the land
are
more at peace than they have ever been
because
of you
that
there is no life we can return to you
no
love that can bring back your own
yet
we must forget - not you, not your pain
for
that is no longer yours, but ours
but
a day that has passed like the night
leaving
us only with our grief
leaving
us only with our grief and a desire
to
reconcile love with justice - for you
§
for madiba
to forget
the past
we had to
remember
the future
of love
yet sorrow
does not die easily
too many
martyrs freshly dead
still lie
in shallow graves in our hearts
freedom
enters our
lives warily
as if
afraid of strangers
becomes
real
suddenly
when
madiba smiles
10 may
1994
land
§
sarajevo
i can see you
from a hilltop
lying in a valley
where only the dead
live unafraid
i have travelled a long way
to be with you this winter
yet those who profess to be your protectors
will not let me complete my journey to you
i am confined to this hill and you, sarajevo
covered in white, the colour of death
are imprisoned below
sarajevo
from this hilltop
i hear your cries
they come to me in waves
they surround me, almost drown me
but here, there is no easy way to die
i am haunted by women
who die whole on the outside
shredded within
by children who die in halves
one half on a street
the other in a hospital
and by men who die in pieces
die with the death of their women
die with the death of their children
die again and again
when the sun rises
and when it sets
hearing your cries my love
flies to you
through the shivering sky
i cradle the child you once were
i cradle what remains of you
i cradle the girl turned into a woman
i cradle the boy turned into a man
sarajevo, you are like
hussein at karbala
each day you carry your children to the water’s edge
pleading for them to be allowed to drink
each day you return with their bodies
the only drink they have had
is that of their own blood
you are a broken-limbed tree
standing defiantly in the snow
you are the last wall of the blown-up mosque
that refuses to fall
you are the burnt-out hospital
that can burn no more
i know the cruelties you
face each day
the simple yet agonizing choices you must make
to eat the last piece of bread today, or tomorrow
to burn your favourite carpet for warmth, or book
to give the last anaesthetic to your daughter
whose legs are being amputated or to your son
you have made these choices
many times
in making them you have made
the choice of life over death
have defeated those whose choices
have been simplified by hate -
those who must decide again
do we shoot the old man
carrying a bucket of water
or the child whose ball has rolled onto the street
do we blow his head off, or just his legs
do we rape all the captive women once
as we did yesterday
or do we all rape the same woman today
then you are asked to turn
the other cheek
by those who have blown away your face
encouraged to offer the hand of friendship
by those who have cut off your hands
promised you will be helped onto your feet
by those who cut off your feet earlier
you have chosen a life of
freedom, sarajevo
stay with your choice
in seeking to cleanse the land of your presence
the agents of death do not realize how fickle death can be
do not discern, in the cleansing of the land, the insidious
cleansing of a deeper, more treasured landscape
i carry within me a flower
of hope
i have protected it from the wind and rain and snow
if you raise your eyes to this hilltop tonight
you will see in the darkness, not just its star-like glow
but light from the stars which began reaching out to you
before anyone even knew your name
§
yesterday you left the
sun behind
it did not set
it simply burst like a grenade
deep inside your mind
you left the mountains that
you loved
you would not have left
but they crumpled
under the bombs meant for you
you left your village and
your family
but that’s not true
like your freedom they were taken
forcibly away from you
you drank water from a
stream that was dying
saw the reflection of the sky
looked for yourself and found
a dark rain-cloud drifting by
it was then that you left
the sun
your village and your family behind
searched out the door of death
blew it up and stepped in
yesterday you left death
behind
the sun is back, mountains really do not die
other villages will grow, other families return
to live in, love, the land you softened with your blood
§
your eyes are
begging-bowls not even the sun can fill
they are like the dark spaces that inhabit the universe
they devour the light of your people
all laughter, even its memory, is gone from their land
in you the song of their
struggle
has become a dirge of bones being crushed
ploughed into the ground - to blossom
into sunflowers in sealed-off courtyards
when you approach, even
children are embarrassed
the morning hastily retreats behind clouds that promise
but deliver no rain - those who have vanquished you
no longer bother to notice your outstretched hands
§
your eyes are
self-inflicted wounds light can never reach
even if it travels at twice its speed and then twice as fast
your laughter hides in shadows sheltering in your mind
you can no longer tell whether it is laughter or a cry
does the morning cry for
your people
or for you or for the beggar at your door as it cried
for the vanquished centuries past - but centuries
passed - and the vanquished are vanquished no more
you exist today as you did
yesterday, alone with your words
words that weigh you down though you try to discard them
like promises you cannot keep - that no longer matter -
how blindly you harvest the ruins of an uneasy victory
§
for now we can sleep,
like the dead
one day history will be sanctioned
to visit a million graves, to find out why
so many children, like scandals, were born to die
beneath the sand, will discover, not the ruins
of a cruise missile or a smart bomb but the skull
of a caged animal, and the remains of uncaged man
but
for now we can sleep, with the dead
§
Prayer
O
Lord of Grace and Mercy
O Dispenser of Love
O our Protector
in this age of war and waste
in this time of lies laundered as truth
in this day of mayhem and madness
ambush us with your love at
every turn
cluster-bomb us with your grace and mercy
strike us with your missiles of guidance
commit us to the suicide of
our egos
fill the caves of our minds with emptiness
except for the light of your presence
grant us endless loss of our
greed and anger
and in the rubble of what we claim is true
help us find ourselves besieged by you
19
November 2001
