Saturday, February 22, 2014

At Phoenix Ashram, or, 'A Settlement'.


He was younger then;
     Gropingtastingfeeling his way achingly. Slowly,
allowing himself to articulate that which could be, because
of precedent, there was none.

Is this why I see him not here?
Is this why I cannot hear him, here,
where the sounds first came?
Is the resonance too diffused
or my hearing not keen enough, bapu?

Little remains of the lands you tilled;
littler yet of the roads you walked, the rooms you inhabited,
the lives which imagined alongside yours.

But, again, perhaps it is my eyes which fail me,
accustomed as they are to seeing you formed, complete, 'achieved'.
You did not engage with the Zulu: you didn't see the inequity; not to begin with.
I suspect this is why I struggle so.

You see, bapu, I turn to you for light, and you shine.
Being here has made me see that
if I must have your light,
I must also embrace the darkness at its core.