They are names never known to me
Throughout my roll-call life
Of common MaryJanes
Bill, Billy, William
Peter Paul and Mary
But I am sure they braid their hair
With the same three strands as I
And wish upon evening skies
Full of outstretched stars
A world away
They are rich in ancestral pride
As am I
Here with the names I know
Repeated over and over
I am glad to get to know the names
I can barely correctly pronounce
For they give me a better reason
To be kinder to strangers
That they might one day speak of me
My name in a positive light
As it fall from their foreign tongue
These names attach themselves
Like post-it-notes
To my heart....
Faceless friends I have scooped up
In the swirling shifting tide
That washes me to another shore
Pardon me if I get your first and last names
Jumbled, as I am new to your town
Even if I only enter your street
Through the tap tap tapping
Of lettered keyboard strokes
It is my earnest way of shaking your hand
And learning a name
Once foreign to me
Now one I call friend
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I will share this with my South African colleagues, it is beautiful