Heidelberg Recollections Poem by Gert Strydom

Too many memories cling
to the places where you life and stay
from being small and in thoughts you pass
the pain and think about the joy,
so as if good things can make up for that which hurts.

Poems was in my dad’s heart, so as if Afrikaans
is a living thing,
from being small I was aware
of his voice letting words cling to me,
even at the mourning,
where without really realizing
what the meaning of it is
I stood at his grave in the red-brown sand
and saw crying people passing

and for me it was as if he just went away,
but his big black car
with the fins was still there and daily
mother used it to drive to work
and I was really scared
that at a time she would also take to the road
and when she in the mornings was leaving
I was wondering if I would see her again?

The black jacket and hat
with which dad made us scared
when we did not want to eat
or did not want to learn
what he was teaching us
still was hanging behind the door
and time and again I looked
at these objects
expecting them
to on a day come to life again
with dad disguising him self in them
like when I was naughty,
when he came in through the back door.