A chink of light
Dancing with motes of dust
Passes daily across my cell
Marking the hours, days, nights, and years
In this otherwise dark place.
On the wall, carved into the sandstone,
Whose flecks of silica glint with the passing of the light,
These words appear for but minutes a day,
‘My hands are bound, though my spirit knows none’
When the light completes its daily journey,
Alone in the dark, I visit places in my mind.
I go to a rocky beach and listen to the sound of the sea,
Eroding the stones that bind it
And become that behemoth
The ocean
The tide
And look to my governor
The moon
And plan, hope, and dream.
Excellent!
You could dedicate that one to Mandela.
Wicked!
We need more poems involving behemoth.
Lala ngoxolo, Madiba!
Lala ngoxolo, Mpondozihlanjiwe!
Lala ngoxolo, Tata!
Lala ngoxolo, Rolihlala!
Lala ngoxolo, Dalibunga!
[quote=“zender”]Excellent!
You could dedicate that one to Mandela.[/quote]
Mandela’s real name mean’s ‘troublemaker’.