Dream Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

The image of a journey
I must make

as old as history’s hoof beats
in the night before I wake

the moon’s flag fluttering over
weather-beaten coats of arms

yet all the doors
in village after village barred

like live men’s eyes:
along
roads laid down by human hands,

the hoof beats crossing
bridges over streams,

the heart incessantly keeps singing
its own song

singing its journey towards the weariness
of greetings that are last farewells.