25 October 2019

On freedom, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

we summon no parent,
nor sibling—nor deity
nor mercy, but hasten
into that righter world.
Days come with desire,
and nutrition is a table.
Look at the south hawk
scan this fallow land,
see a north buffalo rise
to its greener purpose,
hoof the urine-yellow
grass, and breed woman
and man from a child
the way eggs do chicks.
For no one can in pity
suck the dark marrow
from our names. Or
become the measure
of our own prophecy.

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