The Family Crest Poem by Gert Strydom

Was it in Nelspruit,
or was it at Pilgrim’s Rest
that you had the man
make the family crest
on a white plate?

Of the Lion with the crown
walking with a golden
sword turned down
in its right claw
over fields of
green and red
and on the top it had
a silver skullcap
of medieval armour.

To the kids it was
a holy omen
something out of old chivalry
standing for a religious, moral
and social code
where courage, honour, courtesy
and justice prevails

but to you and me
it was a token of love,
a gift that was especially made.

That holiday we visited
Hall’s store on the way
to Sabie and bought
a boot full of fruit, dried fruit
and fruit juice and jam

and in the Kruger Park
Five-year-old Heinrich
cried when a baboon
jumped on the bonnet
and pulled a wicked
face at him
with long fangs showing
and then we were a family.