kagablog

Will I ever peel this black and white
veil from my eyes
blinding polar view
Dutch sites and scenes
nauseatingly familiar
boer faces, names and places
a blurring recurring image
die klein vasberade volk
fixated with the fatherland
violaters of one after another
motherland

Against this dense cityscape
colours and shapes blend
below a shadow-grey sky
often I must step back
resist being sucked in
remember to look up
knowing that in this very instant
another reality lies
beneath the same awesome sky
a magic blue free of shadows
way across the equator
in a city not built on water
but where two oceans meet
where the history of my world
begins and ends
wind woven
polarised
vine vallied
intoxicating
blasted and blessed
Cape Town

25 to 42 degrees there
some days maybe 10 degrees
but most days below zero here
same day
one hours difference
yet opposite poles
on the flip-side of the equator
two halves of the whole

There are no seasons for grapes
oranges, mangoes, strawberries
or bananas here
they import everything
from almost anywhere
for consumption
gratification all year round
shipping them in
carting them out
like the Savannah giraffes
or the three Asian elephants
in the Amsterdam zoo
cargo cut out of their cycle
uprooted from home
now part of a splendid display
day after day after day

I try
to balance the scale
question veil upon veil
though the silence hangs thick
in contact our eyes make it clear
no matter how much we travel
no matter how much we touch
too much is missing

I speak
they do not hear
I am making African noises
not to them
but at them I think
they think

I do
they do not see
I am making African gestures
not toward them
but for them I think
they think

I tell myself
its no longer true
there must be more
we couldn’t possibly be back
at this invisibilty black
the abc boxing of humanity
our weakest
saddest
lowest point
even monkeys are more evolved

sitting in front of my colour tv screen
for the first time exposed
to images the outside world
ten years ago has seen
intimate, brutal aspects of my existence
bitter ghosts
now resurrected in my chest
such small cutting words
exile, ban, unrest

sitting in a state library chair
stare at a paragraph
thick with the tone of fact
another white male historian
another authority on the nature of my family
whose noble venture into the unknown
has come to this
the only document they say exists
from which i must divine
precious remnants of my regal bloodline

in this hall of muffled coughs, i sigh

i have raged about the silence
i have cried about the violence
i know i’ve shed this all before
endless cycles of release
resentment that i tell myself
i’ve long since risen above
me, in my meditation pose
projecting myself over this chakra rainbow
towards this conquering all-embracing
concept of love

come elusive architect
who metered dosage for this mind
dictated what i should see
when i should be blind
fed a packaged history
i have stomached the last
blank page
blank tape
blank face
i want the aching
absent
bleeding truth
in full colour detail

Translating birds chattering
in their glassboxes above
French
Italian
Portugese
German
English
Spanish
Japanese
and we below
from all over the planet
have flocked together
to present and dissect
childrens rights
global peace matters
while the birds above
first memorise then begin
their simultaneous chatter
so no-one is left out
so every word is heard

Hooked to our high-tech headphones
we tune in to the tweeting echoes
in alien or home tones
cameras flash, pan or zoom
capturing the worlds faces
contained in this room
our eyes on the speaker
their eyes on us
our eyes on each other
all eyes on screen
what are we missing
what exactly are we seeing
lense
big screen
microphone
are we together
or are we alone

In this suspended reality
of foreign five-star hotels
name and religion ID tags
our hosts traditional cuisine
this out-of-contex togetherness
where sworn national enemies
do the noble press-pic handshake
and inconspicuously
you do a double-take
we try so hard to communicate
sitting through sessions
of speeches and debate
stuffed with statistics
jargon, brochures, reports
and the usual workshop-talk
We stick to our schedule
switch to the next venue
and as the days pass
some exchange addresses
others form a latenite circle
to share jokes, anecdotes
sing well-known songs
and I blend in
wondering
what we will take home
what will we invest
when we return to our nests
having flown so far
said and seen so much
more than memories
we hope
more that hot-talk
we say
some half–smile at the pile
of good intentions
and on the closing day
we re-commit to link ups
strategies to follow through
a collective draft is printed
a declaration is signed
and in a few hours
we wave, shake,hug
turn our backs
and take flight
in opposite directions
with more luggage
than we landed with
a week-or-so ago
with much more
or way less
than some bargained for

First Forum of the Global Network of Religions for Children GNRC - May 2000, Osaka, Japan

Full Circle
Black
Muslim
Woman

Fatal combination
See the separation
Float to surface
Slip out from within
Feel the cracks
Of sudden conclusions
The thud of dead frames
Falling into place
Diminishing all that I am
All that we are
To an other
A definite outsider

Black
Muslim
Woman

Turning away
Journeying within
When the third call home had come
For one so long on the run
So full of questions
So riddled with doubt
Humbled
At the abundance laid out
For one eternally a child
Waking up only
When resistance and reasoning
Fell down
And the mind grew quiet
And the heart was in flood

Black
Muslim
Woman

By birth
By choice
By cosmic design
Divine intervention
By conscious declaration

Black
Muslim
Woman
One of many
One on her own

16/09/00

(A dream after visiting Tradouw’s Pass in the Klein Karoo, 09 July 2005)

shards of light
penetrate her shroud
solitary silhouette
standing on a dark mound
waiting for her moon

veiled in night
slowly she lets her head fall back
her mouth opens into the black
a soundless shout
a flock of doves flies out
dispersing into the darkness
carrying their messages
to distant quarters

in her silence she is calling
each receiver’s name
all over the world they awaken
those leaving
stay
those dying
begin to breathe again
those warring
feel a tender wind unclench their fists
lighten their weapons
wash across their brows

now light peels in
defining earth from sky
she releases one more muted cry
the air absorbs it instantly
persistent as her shadow
it takes in everything

with this dawn unfolding
she finds her feet again
frees them from the red earth enveloping them
and takes her first step

with each one the rain obediently responds
gently it begins to touch her shoulders
her head
her cheeks
gradually dripping into the arc of her back
dancing on her outstretched arms
pooling in her open palms

the further she walks
the harder it pours
erasing her footprints
soaking her skin
listening for her command
for when to end this cleansing

she alone can hear the music
of her heart
her breath
her feet
beating the growing river of red

through the mist
above the mountains ahead
a rainbow like a dream
faintly emerges
beckoning her to the other side

she follows her heart-breath-beat
and feet
they know the way
they will not stop
not until the dark descends again
when time will play her trick
of dejavu

I have tried hiding
Amidst the intensity of daily living
Sinking into the anonymity
Of earthbound business
Denying my thirst
My hunger
For You
Watching my willows weep at this river running dry
Knowing
Without needing to see
That without honouring and remembrance
Of You
All that matters withers
And time is merciless in its march

Surely a million conscious breaths
Conscious steps
I have lost to this sleepwalking
Pretending to be alive

From thought to feeling
Ideas to senses
From mind to gut
Blood to breath
Desperation to inspiration
Strategy to impulse
From conditioning to dreaming
Body to being

From warring to loving
Difference to oneness
Distrust to faith
From doubt to believing
Insecurity to equilibrium
Questions to silence

From Struggle to Surrender
To Surrender
We Surrender

From imprisonment to liberation
Judgement to acceptance
Attachment to freedom
From exhaustion to enthusiasm
Dragging to dance
Holding on to letting go
Anchoring to flight
From known to unknown
Roots to wings

From Struggle to Surrender
I surrender
We surrender
She surrenders
He surrenders
We surrender
Surrender

Light lives here. Light was here before the darkness of doubt, the ash and storms of our destruction, before all of this, all of us, before flesh and bone, walls and windows, soil, mountain, sky or sea. Light does not recognise such boundaries. It will penetrate your armour, beam from between your ribs, from behind your eyes, show up on the horizon unfailingly, even when you cannot or choose not to see. No amount of tears or rage has dissipated it into its alter self. Light mutates into incarnations we plaster with other names, yet it remains true to itself, an indestructible essence with immeasurable capabilities. Light is a labyrinth of exquisite complexity yet maintains a simple undeniable beauty. Light is within and beyond definition, captivity. Light lives here. Dancing in unexpected corners of my home and heart. Light spills from my son’s mouth, from my beloved’s eyes, from my mother’s gut-deep laughter. Here I shower my soul. In the centre of the shadow is the secret of the light. Under the veil of night light reveals itself to me, an eternity of dreaming, of whispered meanings, stories of immortality and I wake into forgetfulness, my swimming with the stars immersed in endless galaxies, interrupted by gravity. Till I remember. Remember…that light also lives here. Right here. Hidden at the core of everything, of all that I call you or me…the magic of universal unity - from gigantic to atomic - a cosmic vibration that explodes the myth of separation. Light lives here. Here…light…lives.

From thought to feeling
Ideas to senses
From mind to gut
Blood to breath
Desperation to inspiration
Strategy to impulse
From conditioning to dreaming
Body to being

From warring to loving
Difference to oneness
Distrust to faith
From doubt to believing
Insecurity to equilibrium
Questions to silence

From Struggle to Surrender
To Surrender
We Surrender

From imprisonment to liberation
Judgement to acceptance
Attachment to freedom
From exhaustion to enthusiasm
Dragging to dance
Holding on to letting go
Anchoring to flight
From known to unknown
Roots to wings

From Struggle to Surrender
I surrender
We surrender
She surrenders
He surrenders
We surrender
Surrender

Grief is not rational
Grief is you out of control
Grief could not care about your calendar
Your feeble projections
Based on theories about time
Grief pulls your strings
After letting you loose long enough
To feel the weight of another fall
Grief calls you inside
Locks you up
Takes you back to childish threats and tantrums
None of which make any difference
To what happened
To what is
To what can ever be replaced
Or ever be the same
Grief knows your secret weaknesses
Your hiding places
Can turn the most ordinary, familiar places
Into alien landscapes
Grief will change your walk, your talk
Will bring you unexpectedly to your knees
Grief ignores all your pleas
For relief
Escape
The numb of forgetting

Grief attacks out of the blue
Before you can even think of a defence
And even though you were there
For the brutal digging and carving of this wound
The cruel abruptness of this loss
Grief will make you zone out
Wonder where you are
Puzzle at the smallest and simplest of questions

Grief will make you want to hurt yourself
Will want to hold you back
When time pushes you forward
It will make you think you are stagnant, stuck
Frozen in her grip
Never to be released
Grief will try to convince you
That nothing and no-one can takes her place
Grief will pretend to disappear
Then jump up in your face
Laughing at you for thinking
You’d left her behind

Grief teaches you patience
Gives you no choice
Makes you want to rant and howl
Takes away your voice
Grief can destroy all you have built
And believed in
If you let it
If you forget to give in
To realise that resistance
Encourages grief to stay longer
That denial
Invites grief to sink deeper roots
Widen the spread of its blinding poison

Grief is a cleansing fire
Embrace it
Surrender to its demands
Grief knows the way
Knows the only way out
Is through
It is within this cave
Under the spell of its darkness
That grief’s real work begins
There
Where we are most afraid to go
There it waits
After the wars of mind and heart
To welcome you
To reveal the truth of its purpose
To grace you with its many gifts

Truth is both spirit and flesh
It is the hotel bill or photograph discovered in a pocket
The open mouth saying nothing in defence
It is the fact splattered across the courtroom
Exposed to cameras, microphones and strangers ears
It is the addict at the brink of suicide
Frozen between picking up a fix or the telephone
It is the vibration in your chest and stomach pit
That hits when you hear or read a real guru’s words
It is the breath absent from the body of a beloved
Who will not wake up or ever laugh into your eyes
It is the child speaking without thinking
Unaware of the adults they have suddenly stripped naked
It is the cut, the scar, the wrinkle, the rash, the swelling
The illness revealed in the face, in the shaking
The toxin reflected in the skin
It is the uninhibited hug projected from the heart
The electricity of a long time lover’s touch
It is the smoke or the stench
That cannot be dismissed or disguised
The bone that waits decades to be found
The memory in our cells
The irrepressible rising of tears
It is the current in our veins
The universal rhythm of our hearts
It can be understood in any language
It lives within the word and the sound
It is liberation and source of great pain
It is both water and fire
It is the visible and the invisible
It is the written and the unwritten
The space and the line
It is different
It is the same
It is buried
Yet it will not die
It is the silence before
Beneath and beyond
The lie
It waits for you and I
It will not die

Truth is both spirit and flesh

the day before she killed herself
we had another stupid argument
something about a missing tie
i came up with some easy to tell lie
and walked away
knowing she could not follow

the day before she killed herself
i forgot the milk she asked for
some excuse like not having time
she breathed her deep angry sigh
and i put the tv on
knowing she could not shout

now tears from the corners
of eyes that seldom cry
are burning their way through
are here to tell the truth
to say what i did not say
now that she cannot hear
now that i cannot follow or shout