Night-Watch Poem by Gert Strydom

(in answer to D. J. Opperman)

Outside the wind howls as if it will never find rest,
jerks on the oaks and in the wild stormy rain I am half blinded
but stumble to the door of a great old farmhouse but it's open.
I want to knock on it but do decide to walk down the long corridor
where portraits of ancestors do hang and they are all know to me.
In the glare of a hurricane lamp and out of the cold I am almost shivering
while the yellowwood floor do creak under my feet with every step
but something forces me to walk on and an unknown power sweeps me along
while those strict bearded faces almost do glare at me
and a single one of a beautiful lady hangs on the wall.

In the bedroom a python's skin is curled around a dried out tree,
a stuffed lion stand with its jaws open as if it wants to roar,
various hunting rifles hang on the one wall and do fill it up
and in my stomach there is a dark painful spot
where over the skins of antelope I walk to a bed with an old man in it
who when he notices me entering do come erect and do strain himself
but he is without power and he gasps and pain is written all over his face
and his glance is friendly, as if he does recognize me and sincere.

In a dream I am right next to the bed of an ancestor
Peter Swanepoel and there is nobody else
where against the onslaught of death he tries to stay alive
but I am there alone when he grabs me on an arm,
from the leopard that had jumped on him some of his fingers are missing
and I note that the legends out of my childhood days are not nonsense
where the hurricane lamp does throw shadows over his face
and his words do hold meaning but I feel somewhat flustered:

"I waited on you to come from another time and era
as it is in your blood to fight, to carry your name high.
Your enemies sneak around you like skunks going here and there
but they are sly and leave no distinct track on the ground
as if constantly they try to tread your name down
but do always stay in the shadows that they cannot be caught in the act
where you do not deserve the things that constantly do come your way
and where your blood is boiling you stand still and astonished
but it's time to go to action
to destroy every single one of them."

He coughs and there is blood on the sheets around him
and suddenly it's as if others that are already passed away do come to life
while he is near to his end and every one of them do treat me with sincerity.
It's as if the most important of my ancestors are suddenly present
and each one of them looks at me with eyes that do burn into the soul.
Clothed in his black armour with a bloody sword
the legendary Teutonic knight Vinnulph stands close to me
do slap me on the shoulder as if he is greeting me and walks past
the Scottish knight Sir Samuel William Smith walks up and down in the room
as just after the third crusade with a maul
where he has come from his lord Richard (the Lion-heart) ,
and there is authority to him.

Sirs Christopher and John Henry Brand do nod with the heads,
both are with hunting rifles in their hands and without words they look at me,
Joost Strydom with a rapier in his hand does go and sit on the bed
as if he has got great sympathy and love for the dying man,

The lovely Catharina Ustinx from Denmark (also known as Trijn Ras)
has to my surprise a spear and is clothed in mail armour that goes neatly with it
and I am surprised that all of them come with weapons to my aid
where here they all are suddenly at their prime and alive.

"My lad, why do stand back when the war rages all around you,
take my maul to protect your honour and name and our blood."
"No you are a knight of the black dragoons, take my mighty sword
and hit everyone down and do destroy them in great rage."

The lovely Catharina Ustinx talks with a calm controlled voice
where she holds her long spear:
"He has got his own Moses-staff that hits with blue thunder
and nobody, but nobody, can stands before his words."

All of the men do laugh while they look unbelieving at her.
"Words you say, words" says president Brand
while he strokes through his beard with a hand.
"But he keeps it back for the sake of Christ."
"For Christ's sake you say? For His sake I did spill blood, "
Vinnulph explodes and shakes his head.
"We were almost in Jerusalem did beat the Moslems, "
Sir Samuel William Smith answers
with a unholy light in his pale blue eyes
but as if he is praying his head is suddenly bowed down.

"But then he must jump out with it
and bring his whole world back into control, "
Vinnulph roars as if it's a war cry and all of them look at me searching
as if mere words can stop all injustice in my world.

[Reference: "Nagwaak by die ou man" (night-watch at the old man) by D. J. Opperman.]