style of the peacock
a child runs to feed beauty
a bunch of black grapes
style of the peacock
a child runs to feed beauty
a bunch of black grapes
Blue, blue, my pool is blue.
Blue is my sky.
How about you?
White, white, a butterfly flies.
White is my house.
How about you?
Black, black, the shadow’s black.
Black is my back.
How about you?
Black and white martins glide
smooth on the breeze.
How about you?
Blue, blue, forever be true.
What do you say?
How about you?
[Written in response to ‘I am sorry‘ by Vinette Hoffman-Jackson]
I am sorry
I passed you by,
as if you were invisible,
and impossible to befriend.
I’m sorry
I didn’t cross the road,
ask your name,
and offer to share your load.
I am sorry
I sat in the same room,
sipped my tea,
crunched my gingersnaps
and didn’t offer to fill your cup.
I’m sorry
I never looked back
over centuries
before you were a slave
transported for the sake of my ancestors’ wealth.
I am sorry
I forgot to pay attention
to your ancestors,
to your colour, to your sweat,
hunger,
pain,
loss,
anger
children,
chains,
your Strange Fruit.
I’m sorry
I drank the poison,
as if it was cod liver oil.
Madiba crossed the road.
I shall never forget.
The only penance I can offer you
Solidarity.
I am sorry.
_____________________
[Note: Vinette Hoffman-Jackson’s ‘I am sorry‘ is from her collection ‘Through Two Black Eyes’, published by YouCaxton Publications 2020. ISBN 9781913425463.]