Mongane Wally Serote

(for james matthews)
1
so you heard the night break into a laughter
when the dogs began to howl
and now you pass the day
having heard the scream of cats making love beneath broken automobiles
and your memory
like your eyes
like your whiskers
was witness to it all
otherwise why would you ask me about nina simone
your eyes say nothing nice about the minutes you carried
nor your whiskers
because they smell of alcohol
and your memory keeps throbbing behind your eyes
otherwise why would you sing with ausi miriam
about the empty days
and the nights which shattered your sleep
child of the song
tell us

2
remember
how we used to sit in the womb of the dawn
crushing the days that the future held
popping them
as if they were bugs troubling our night
remember
and we staggered into the mourning into the street
where everything screamed: sonofabitch!

3
yes, the day was not ours nor the night
remember how someone's baby rushed out of the tenth floor
and crushed on the tar
his blood splashing on the flower petals in the garden
so you heard the laughter of the law
what will you say to your son
mourn?
or my son, every mourning is a dangerous alley
yes
prophets claim the future
and the present destroys them

so
child of the song, sing don't cry
with song and dance we defied death
remember
like
the heavens are blue because they are empty
and
beware, my brother, of park benches
sitting there
is the last thing a fighter must do
...

1
how do we learn from what we talk
and from what we hear
how do we learn
that when an eye is poked out
what remains is a hole
that this assaulted space
will never be the same again
that the hole that remains is like a womb
it throbs and throbs with memory

2
the eye,
with its hasty footsteps moves and moves
yet when it rests, like a river which heaves with breath
but spreads and spreads in motionlessness
we read what the eye writes
like
eyes can break like a branch loaded with fruit

3
since there is no such thing as choice
like
the eyes see what they see
let the hole throb
scars are moments where we have been
like
one with one foot must move must still move
...

(for sisters and brothers who may be weary)
so you keep looking back
if you did not listen when the past was breathing
the present erases your name
child don't let laughter from insane strangers snatch our faces
the present is surprised at our songs
it is shocked that we still walk the streets the way we do
lost as we are
torn and bewildered by the sounds of our names
it is surprised that though the sight of our eyes staggers
and though the gait of our shadows seems to limp
we still put brick on brick and tell our children stories
so you keep looking back
even when the darkness is so thick it could touch your eyeballs
even when the darkness is such a huge space
ready with an insatiable thirst, swallowing, and even ready still to swallow
the last red drop that trickles still from your little heart,
don't you hear the songs
they can live in the present if we let them
these songs have a prowess of our mother's back
and the eloquence of our grandmother's foresight
about the time that never was
and the earth whose rhythm is an intoxicated dizziness
child
feel the wall while you walk and hold, hold
glue your eye into the distance and keep walking
move, child, move
if we don't get there
nobody must . . .
...

(to jonas gwangwa)
we walked in the early morning when the dogs were tired of barking
our footsteps,
lost in the ways of ticking minutes
took us everywhere where we never intended to be
like,
remember how the minute looked under its sole
and there our blood was
our flesh, stuck under sole turning to soil
blood and flesh turned to mud
the hour, like all the applauses we know and have heard
declared us ants destined for the mad hoofs
so the weary midnight hour held our hands
and the empty streets stared at us with their lights
and again, once more, we kept turning on our beds
as if the mattress was hot earth roasting worms
ah
music-maker, one day when your feather breaks
and the prowess of your speech vanishes like a snowflake falling on the earth
remember
you ride the hour like death rides life
...

(for some who are in south african jails)
1
it is with the shadows of night
when the sun comes and goes
the moon comes and goes
that we ask, in weary voices, which fall into the depth of the gulf:
how does it feel to be you
watching and waiting
to feel the heavy weight of every minute come followed by another
and nothing
even everything written in blood
says nothing about how we could wake up tomorrow and build a day

2
your eyelids shut, if they ever do,
and the memories of those you knew,
flood behind the darkness of closed eyelids
spiralling into patterns of pain
and you alone know that once there were hopes
that once the footsteps of the people sounded on the horizon
and now
silence strides across the sky
where the sun sweats, proclaiming a wish to rest

3
can we tell you
you the children of a long hour a long day a long night
that hope never befriends fools
yes
time, in absolute eloquence, can erase our faces
remember sharpville?
in those days, violence and disaster were articulate
and now
today you watch and wait

4
so one day hope begins to walk again
it whispers
about the twisted corpses that we saw
sprawled across the streets on this knowledgeable earth
the tears
the blood
the memory
and the knowledge, which was born
by every heavy minute that we carried
across a wilderness, where there were no paths
where screams echoed, as if never to stop
it is when there is no hope, that hope begins to walk again
yet
like we said
hope never befriends fools

5
since we have eyes to see
ears
and fingers to touch
only if we know how, can we harness time -
can you hear the footsteps
...