The Prayer Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

Far along the beach the tiny cross
crouches in the fynbos growing over
the vacant sand that cradled once the loss
of brother, husband, father, son and lover.

His body, broken, was found lying there,
beyond more harm, like some discarded toy,
once cherished. In the cold open air
he lay, his eyes empty of sight, his heart of joy.

Visitors will come on weekends, walk their dogs
along the beach, and lovers hand in hand
stop at a place where, over rocks and washed-up logs,
the fynbos flowers, and the shifting sand

has covered the cross we stood beside, silent as a prayer
that had lost all the words that once were there.