When the going gets tough …

2

July 10, 2014 by petrujviljoen

… the weak writes poetry. Cate and I wrote each other via sms yesterday and today just so we could get through our respective days. Heaps of trouble got loaded onto us without our asking. It’s winter here and really cold. She’s in the city, I’m in the country. Gogo is a word for grandmother in the local (South African) Zulu language. It’s a compliment to be called so. I sit and wait for the taxi next to a waterfall and a beautiful gorge. She’s in teeming streets in the city.
P:
waterfall, rockface
frost resists the paltry sun
woman sits, wrapt

cate:
chugging, taxi waits,
steamy breath, people wait,
let’s go we late.
me:
waiting, frozen toes –
taxi is coming Gogo,
you’ll get to town

P
a spring in one’s
step, a tiny poem so
to get one through

P
mountain rhythm plays
its silent song, bedecked –
clarity of blue

P
long, hard slog today
back home the grate’s cold –
drinks Old Brown Sherry
………………………………………….
10/07/14
P:
frosted landscape
round hills gleaming silver light
– woman back in bed
C:
traffic light red, then
green, grey road litter,
flashes of yellow blue
light windows flight
through, silent clicks,
cells of friends

P:
momentous skies
eagle seeks a landing, finds
the highest treetop

C:
ha di dah exclaiming,
call, St John’s long
walk and wall,
human approaching now! Was
it one of us at all?
Nah, don’t believe
that stuff …

P:
so much going on
equilibrium shaky
holding onto faith

 

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