Who'd have ever thought...
About the world becoming so motionless
Feeble and partly cold
As it gasp through the gash of Covid-19
...
Why is he there in sunny and in rainy
In the cold winter and blazing summer
At the crossroad of life and death
This corner is his home
...
Why wait for the rain
When crops are drying up
fields pounding up
By hovering dust that will grow in to a mountain
...
They built a house
Painted it white just the way they are
And named it the 'white house of hope'
Spew now, mother!
...
unmasked and unmarked
and let it glint
love dwells not in ecstasy
but in jovial hearts that fling and flug
...
When the lockdown end
we shall reach up the sky
with our huefull innocent wings
We shall soar
...
Marlon Khoza is a South African theatre maker, playwright, author and creative director.)
Not Ourselves
Not ourselves
We no longer have tears
To discard anymore
We remain derailed like arid river,
With cracked muddy and parched banks,
Daises so lifeless and colorless.
We are low-spirited when you squint us from the distance,
masks and shields adorned us,
to pelt our exhausted smiles.
We no longer recognize our teeth anymore
And the hum of our laughs are fractured
Like scars left behind by the volcano
covid has and still,
continued to etch our faces
and bombard our shoulders with heaviness
of the pyramid of khufu
We remain okay
when you wave your hands at distance
it's okay we can't shake anymore
we remain resilient
when we are physically away from each other
© Marlon Khoza
21/01/21
Your poem is mellow and sandy