6 November 2018

Singing, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

You can't run away from yourself
—Bob Marley

What she is singing I don't know, on a street so long,
so like a corridor with tall walls—no one knows
what her song means, and we show no interest in it—
yet with her small voice of a child she sings the song
like a hymn. Why are you singing this? I say. She looks
at me and sings about my clothes and the look of my face
and this climate that is getting ready to fall down,
and goes on about my vehicle, the house I live in;
when I look up, the answer from the sky is tears
of the kind she has been singing about. That’s when
we run everywhere, every woman, child, man, run
away from the sound of the big bang of her song.

At the Chat Noir
Photo by Sabine Dundure

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