Early Evening When Dusk Was Falling Poem by Gert Strydom

Early evening when dusk was falling,
my mother turned with fine fingers
through the pages of the black book
and she looked pretty and womanly
while she took our cares to the almighty Lord

and when I looked though closed eyes
it was as if a big shadow
was making the night still darker
where it was falling over the house and the whole yard,
where God was keeping watch in the night.

Early morning when it was still twilight,
I was already up, was trying to find my way
through the field near to the hillock,
to follow the white cat
to where she was hiding her new children

but could then find no sign
of God’s presence
with only the weavers, sparrows and doves
that were singing their songs of joy,
before the sun white-hot blinded me.