Working The Silence Of The Earth Lost. Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

When I sit and work the silence,
It opens up a door of the ruins,
And takes me into every corner,
In a world once full of light,
And now left with the lease,
From yesterday's brew so bitter,
It has left us all drunk.

We drank the liquor of the mind,
We got near drunk and talked to each other,
In languages only the group knew,
We continued to imbibe our silence,
Till it poured out of our ears,
Without pinching the flesh,
To ask if it could still take anymore,

Sponge drunk we stagger on,
Wondering if the tunnel of silence,
Will lead to a brighter place,
For we have to get somewhere,
With these shuffles of feet tied,
With the ropes of money lost,
That got tangled into our legs,
Tying even the toes.

This silence that pays the piper,
For the noise he makes in space,
These itunes from heaven like drops,
Keep dripping into it constantly,
Making us wonder why so slowly,
This dropping of dulcet sounds,
So silently this money peeps in,
When the notes are so green and so blue,
As the sky looks at itself in wonder.

Questing come into this darkness,
Licking into it like pure milk,
Wanting to know why so silent,
When the fury of work is so loud.

Whoever said the sky would never rain money,
Whoever said we lived in a silence of holes,
Like termites working the ant heap,
That ever hardens yet it has holes,
This porous rock that sees deep into us.
Here where we live and work the silence,
Walking on tip toe afraid to wake up angels,
Wanting answers that will ring our names,
And make us look like the princes of the earth,
When we go to the ATMS of this blessed world,
Where everything is a figment that melts into nothing,
And leave behind silence, time and money,
For they never grow old like the body of humans,
Who drain their blood into vessels with no veins,
No heart pumping out anything for them to live on.