Oozing Water Of Being Human Poem by Gert Strydom

When the sun rises at half past six against the horizon,
when it looks if it's drawing a bloody line
right across the ocean up to the land
then the old sergeant jogs with his brush-moustache
to swim in the sea
before every working day.

Some of the lights of Durban are still burning
and streets and buildings
are lighted up across that golden beach
that lies right from him
where the gates of Natal |Command
do swing close behind him,
where the guards do greet him like on every morning

At the jetty boats are set on the water
where the tiller man stands at the wheel
at something that looks like a pulpit
and the fishermen do kiss their wives
before they do drive away
with the pickup trucks and trailers

and those boats do sail into the sea
over the first wave do jump high into the air
hitting the water with a thud and spray
and then they sail to where they think that the fish are

while the seagulls do land
to look around curiously
and are searching for something to eat
where his bags with towels
and his clothes and shoes lie.

An engaged couple
do celebrate their engagement with champagne
on the beach
do kiss each other big eyed and full of love

while the sandpipers
do land quickly and peck and run
where the sea draws back
and do fly up again
before the next wave breaks.

The water is cool
where it washes over the whole body of the sergeant
where it does embrace him like an old girlfriend
as if the whole sea did wait only on him
while another couple do walk on the beach
with a toddler and a dog
and he hears the child's laughter
of the joy of being at the sea.

© Gert Strydom