Washed up

My Bones

Lie beside the water, the tide coming in.

On my right side — the blue flat-topped mountain

On my left, the sea.

Above me looms the deep blue sky and the blazing sun

and in-between

The ancient winking rocks,

one eye open — strange faces.

The dry white sand

and the burnt out bush.

I washed up here,

I came from far.

From distant lands,

where wild buck roam, and leopards creep.

Now here I lie, besides the river

which spills into the ocean,

A train passes distantly,

the city hums,

I don’t belong here. I come from afar.

my bones washed up here.

My soul is in the blue sky, circling round like a gull,

My heart is in the land I came from far away.

I buried my heart there under a tree.

Even though others claim my land,

it’s still my heart, my tree,

my blood is in its veins.

my spirit returns there every night when I sleep.

I am the ghost that haunts those who live there now.

They think I am dead.

But I am alive, leaving footprints in the sand.

Here, where the tide comes in and out.

My children are my precious garden.

The stories I tell are like bright berries,

Which they eat, and spit out the stones, which grow again.