Karen van Wyk Poems

Crying out in anguish.
Flesh, and blood, and voice!
A cleansed soul left to dry!
Such searing pain, such poise.
...

Her burdened soul, weeps dry tears.
Longing for the heart of her child.
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Born from the fruit of my Christian Mother.
Raised from the seed of my Father.
Grown from the salt of the Earth.
Nay, this innocent heart does not search.
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Even now, I lay still, in the silence.
Remembering her wild cries, in the dark.
Still, she calls to me.
I stay... waiting.
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In a shell of pressed paper, an old man sleeps.
His thin body trembles, from his real dream.
Woe and mercy let loose in time!
Fable.
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My father cradles me in splendid glory.
A universe of fantastic true stories.
A soul etched in stone.
His word, his glory owns.
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How odd I find these days!
Days of hidden agendas.
Days of crippling Lives.
Tho most would say,
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Days of old, days new.
Roaming along,
the waters edge.
Skipping stones from long ago!
...