Good Bye Ponytail Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I have heard of trains crushing youth,
Whose blood mixed with metal rails,
Sipping under noisy metal wheels,
With noises that call us to stand up,

For we know a life has stopped on its tracks
Right there where the rail tracks wait,
Calling us to go and conjure spirits that wail,
Asking if we have seen the poor in spirit,
Begging on a railway line with their guts,
Waiting, the passenger that goes to nobody's hope.

Those in the train wonder at the stops,
As they fear derailing trains with tops,
That tell them that our lives have an ending,
That bleeds on the tracks and goes into the mail,
Where the post does not cost a penny,
For death itself has become the
Doing that cannot be stopped,
That leaves a parent bleeding
As she looks at an empty chair
Where once a supper sizzled.

See the faded picture in the paper
It is of one who died crying out,
For to be loved is not easy,
To be missed is easier to dismiss,
When the paper is deep in the rails,
It is after the winter rains,
Faded with the face of a life,
Blowing in the wind that touches our sadness,
Refusing to leave us people who care,
Asking us to kiss the ponytail,
Of the youth that has laid it down.

If I could hold this ponytail,
While still hanging down on a life,
And say do not say goodbye to us,
Tomorrow there will be a boy cut,
That will make you look better,
And not speak to you of ending it,
But take a brighter place in the sun,
For you are just on a brunch,
Like a bird flying on to another,
Never to be trapped under this train,
That has its wheels ready for you,
Like the teeth of a big whale,
Here in this sea of life.

You belong far away ponytail,
Where tattoos were created,
Where no train can reach your soul,
And crush your guts to pulp,
Living the stain of blood,
That remains in our souls,
As we look at these rails,
Where this train that ate you,
And moved fast taking you
For it could never be like you,
For with no brain it hoots and howls,
Like a wicked darkness you want,
For you are looking down,
And not seeing the you up there.
Don't do it! Bird!
For we will miss your tattoos,
For the drawings that you were,
Now remain wasted on the rail tracks.

Give us a song not a lament,
One we can sing forever,
Till everything bows down to amen,
For your life will have ended,
With hopes we built high,
Our skyscrapers looming up,
Higher than any bird could get,
For we dreamt and still do dream,
Of the you who was a wonder,
Who remains with us a marvel,
To be talked about always.

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