The Village Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
The Village
Warm as the sun they sit,
the day a murmur of tradition:
Kom sit by my, seun.
He has forgotten when
in the storm he saw God
gnarled as his face, old as the waves.
I have been home since then,
watched the storm over the sea
stood by them warm as the sod
safe as the stones
remembered the face of the waves:
O seuntjie, kom sit by my…
Thursday, October 15, 2015
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5/5/2024 6:18:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
