Liz Bedford

I can never understand mans' inhumanity to man, surely we should help wherever we can?
Wars and conflict, why should this be? We could with effort all live in harmony
Regardless of race, skin colour, or creed, this only happens because of greed
Of power and control, and self- gain, and the numerous ways to inflict dreadful pain
...

Let me tell you about my Africa; sit and close your eyes, and try to imagine the never ending skies
Listen to the crickets as they chant their evening song; and the cry of the eagle as he swiftly swoops along
The haze of the heat as it sits above the roads, the whistling of the workers as they bare their heavy loads
Smell the scent of the impending rain and listen for the thunder
...

I was born in a land where the skies are so blue,
African sunsets, flamed bright golden hue,
Communities were strong, we cared, we shared;
Problems rallied us, loads together we bared.
...

It's Christmas time yet again, and as I sit in the sleet and rain
I think of the sun, of years gone by; when we would swim and laugh, have a braai
All of the people who have passed away made this a very special day
The joy the laughter the silly songs, Bols and Castle, and of course, biltong
...

Will today be a good day? Or will I wake still feeling tired
Or yet again must I try to find the energy that's required
To be normal and happy, put on a brave face; try to pretend you are still in this space?
But you've gone and I miss you every single day, I wish that God hadn't taken you away
...

Can you hear me Mother as I'm talking to you?
As I sit and stare into the deep wide blue
Can you hear me Mother, I need your help
For something has happened, it's hard to cope
...

We're all sad at the breaking news, that my friend and others have been abused
We don't want this way, we want them to stay
So how can we start this anew? I think just be respectful..don't you? !
We've loved the chat, the banter, the laughter
...

Let me tell you a tale of a special man, of his special ways in a special land
The place called Matopas, meaning bald heads, the granite rocks guarding secrets of the dead
He sits on the rock and he starts first all, hissing and clicking, through his mouth he calls
The ground seems to move very slightly it seems, till you notice the lizards down the rocks start to creep
...

Softly spoken, one of life's' true gents, but I fear that you have been heaven sent
We will all miss you and your gentle ways, your caring nature and your happy ways
A giant amongst men, upstanding and true, the man you turned to, who knew what to do
So God Bless my friend, save travels, stay safe, for in our hearts you will hold a special place
...

She sat in the chair, eyes glazed and sad, had she done something so terribly bad?
Why had they left her alone and confused; the love she had given, spent and abused
The children she raised, gave guidance and hope, now in her dotage left alone to cope
The values, the morals gone by the way, lonely and hungry, dreading each day
...

I'm going home to the place where I was born, to the red dust and dry heat and the majestic dawn
But I'm tinged with sadness and a heavy heart, hope that I finish the task that I start
The memories of childhood, my Mom and Dad, they won't be waiting, this makes me so sad!
I'll visit them both where I laid them to rest, sit and chat awhile, try my best
...