Читать книгу Synapse - Antjie Krog - Страница 11

live the myth

how unendingly dizzying the finality of the land-as-ours

bluegum-willow-poplar monograms of we-are-here

the evening stream warm with almond light and native

stars centuries of guinea fowl and plovers calling from the grasses

place that could always snap my skeleton into language

coil me into voices bore into my entrails

expose a certain wholeness of belonging as my deepest tongue

tear chorales and something like discord from my brain

across your yard at night I foraged soft-pawed intimately

overgrown with passions idols and revenge – blessedly

released for the night from the sandstone house’s lightfilled fist

but always you drew me back as my inheritance

whatever was done wrong here, land – never have you

sprouted under so much sublime being loved – your seeds

spread everywhere look up enraptured when they hear your name

until a flamescorch of longing slashes it to never-stubble