(after Elisabeth Eybers)
My uncles could cut off the skins of apples, limes and oranges
paper-thin from every different peel
with only the inner part for me remaining
when I walked with them barefoot on their shoes
and I do remember the landing of butterflies soft like kisses,
where from their own will they did touch me
and at three years old the world was open for me,
with branches of trees in different shapes,
the walnut tree carried nuts to multiplication,
the collie-dog walked patiently around with me on her back
and later laid down flat on her stomach sighing,
how black people carried me on their backs without I having to ask them,
how the thunder with almost every rainstorm bashed down,
and my mother wanted the curtains in the house closed against it.
[Reference:"Dagboekblad" (Diary-page)by Elisabeth Eybers.]
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem