Potholes Abound Poem by Margaret Alice

Driving back from Newcastle in Kwa-Zulu
Natal, potholes abound, Charlestown, then
Volksrust, also Standerton, concentrating
to miss those dreaded pockmarks that can
destroy a tyre and strand us far from home
along a lonely road

Overtaking slow-moving trucks, moving at
snail’s pace at times - ever vigilant, ever
careful, nerves all frayed, the wrong road,
we should have taken another route, as
route-planner navigator, beautiful voice
said; but we knew better

Following our instincts, suffering all the way
for fear of crashing and never getting home,
potholes of the most amazing proportions,
tiring body and soul in vigilance, you drove
so valiantly while I fell asleep as I always
do in a moving vehicle

You brought us home safely, tired to the
marrow; how can we thank you for being
ever wakeful, ever strong and dependable,
always taking care of us? We can only try
to soothe your frayed nerves; rest awhile,
you are a hero in our appreciative eyes…