Читать книгу Synapse - Antjie Krog - Страница 18

old yard

wind that blows through bluegums in the yard rustles

like no other wind in bluegums

a wind becomes briny and disconsolate

carving heart-high sounds of tatters and

deathlight hardbaked exhausted

dejected earth that staggers and fails

to come to terms with the misery of

devil’s thorns of wind-chafed trunk-scars

of grief’s fibres and the tenacious stand of resistance

a sheep bleats unpreserved

a forehead-cleft of drought in my father

after all the years we gurgle (the only outlasting ones)

burdened with dying light and bloodsick with heritage

: the new ones prepare to enter the yard