Two Oranges Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

Two Oranges



Written big on a rusted board
the words yell in your head
when you read them:

“Stay out of here! Private property! ”
Scary-eyed we look around us,
the nearest road to school goes far around.

Bravely we do dare
after evaluating the danger
as everybody says
that uncle Van Rooyen has got a big rifle
and he shoots without warning.

The other road goes through the cliff,
over the hillock and a water ditch.
The weather is cold and the fog hangs low,
our jerseys are thin, our feet are bear
and the school is just on the other side
of Uncle Van Rooyen’s maize field.

“Lord, protect us today, ” we pray
and our hands are tightly in each others.
Scared and big-eyed we run
to quickly pass this piece of land.

Just about halfway a big old man stops us.
Our tears flow without end.
“Please, uncle, just for today...”

His eyes are blue, his body is old
and his face burnt by the sun.
In his hand there is no rifle.
He just holds out two oranges.

“No, ” he says without hesitation
and we are both terrified.

“No, tomorrow and every other day
you can take the road
through my maize acre.”

He is alone and the other road
that runs to the school
goes over the cliff and the hillock
and a water ditch.

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Daleen Enslinstrydom

Daleen Enslinstrydom

Springs, South Africa
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