Читать книгу Synapse - Antjie Krog - Страница 14

like before

taking the Kroonstad/Viljoenskroon road like before

and nearer to the turnoff hearing how my wrists slip loose

how my skin quivers when I shift down to second gear

on the ribbon road to look to saunter all the way to

where the yard pages open into orchard, cattle, milk and stone

the flapping bands of geese and the brookwater fragrance of willows

before you walk in through the double front door – how friday-

housecleaning hums, polish and ironstone as without knocking I

walk up the stone passage towards the sound of you both

telling stories laughing clinking cups in their saucers – a vignette

at the big dining room table of an intimate accord

without fuss I slip into my usual place and the word

privilege doesn’t once occur to me as Ma pours

my coffee and tells me to sit up straight Pa

passes the green sugar bowl and the rusks and I share

carelessly depthlessly blushlessly in this ritual of love

oh, I long for my father and mother just as they were

there at the head of the table in the front seat of the car

chatting in the main bedroom and the world kept in order

by them wholewheatwholesome and indestructible

that’s how it felt I run in to you from behind place

my arms around your shoulders and walk in the warm

presence of your testy consciences walk songswarming as

I once walked out as your child, your white beneficiary child

across the yard’s wide expanse of lies because look

a host was under our heel a world

that bled: I carry with you that which now breaks

through a hedge of blood and vengeance bitterbred