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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397600" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At a utter lost in my own country (in answer to Kelwyn Sole)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. Outside on the porch little bells dangle in the wind</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Outside on the porch little bells <br>dangle in the wind<br>(a new expensive set that you have bought) <br>that we hear chiming even in our bedroom. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My eyes follow you while you <br>dress in a bathing suit <br>to plunge into the neighbour’s pool <br>and later I climb over the wall to join you. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You slice spinach, feta cheese, along with <br>mushrooms, onions and tomatoes with quick <br>chopping movements and everything <br>goes into a shining frying pan </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and on the porch <br>we watch the setting sun <br>enjoying our meal <br>with some glasses of sweet wine </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and later while we watch Dr. House <br>you lie with your head on my chest <br>and after a while we begin to kiss, <br>to caress and to undress. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II. Passion sweeps us away </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Passion sweeps us away <br>while only the dogs <br>and the big yellow moon watches <br>until spent, we lie against each other </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and you tell me <br>of the difficulty of your childhood days, <br>of a father who liquor turned <br>into a kind of thoughtless man </div><div style="margin:10px 0">but how he could excel in poetry, <br>still at times tried to live <br>in the ways of God <br>and that you really loved him </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and I tell you about growing up <br>without a father, about how my mother <br>did her very best to offer us <br>a great kind of life </div><div style="margin:10px 0">about the destruction, the desolation <br>and the impact of war, <br>of being a soldier <br>of killing another human being </div><div style="margin:10px 0">about being shell-shocked, <br>with bullets whistling over your head, <br>about my friends, comrades <br>being shot dead </div><div style="margin:10px 0">while somewhere else <br>people are eating out in restaurants, <br>are visiting movie houses, <br>are dancing or watching a television show. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III. Outside gardenias are waving against the windows</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The noise of the machines outside<br>almost sound like the echo’s <br>of our hearts and on the dressing-table<br>there is a vase with deep red roses</div><div style="margin:10px 0">while your body sticks to mine, <br>I see the grace with which you are breathing<br>and in your golden eyes there’s a lovely spark<br>that reminds me how splendid it is </div><div style="margin:10px 0">to be young, to know that we are living<br>and when you later doze off against me<br>your breath whispers ingrained into me<br>like a sweet melody<br>and outside gardenias wave against the windows<br>in a bushy pergola while I play with a nipple. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV. I make tea for us</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I make tea for us<br>and you say that only I can make tea like this, <br>you eat some of my rusks<br>while our hands are just touching each other’s</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and it’s already after nine<br>that you have returned from the gym<br>and you turn the teaspoon<br>around and around</div><div style="margin:10px 0">while you look at me with big eyes<br>and I wonder what you want to tell me, <br>see your eyes disappearing before mine; <br>you are tired and want to go and sleep in your house</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and early in the morning I get an electronic letter<br>telling me that our relationship has ended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V. I know</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know that people<br>sometimes do things<br>to get someone back<br>or to let the self dominate<br>or just because it’s possible</div><div style="margin:10px 0">so as if they are totally free<br>of each other in a relationship<br>and everything<br>just turns around the self and me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not apart from the damage<br>and irreparability<br>that it leaves<br>or the great impact<br>that this destruction brings</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as if deeds<br>do not have consequences<br>and all the time circle out wider<br>and yesterday, today and tomorrow<br>are to infinity the same</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and it’s a fact<br>that the reasons at times<br>go beyond comprehension<br>and the answers<br>sometimes for ever<br>stay away from you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VI. Eyes full of water confuse the picture that I keep</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eyes full of water confuse the picture that I keep<br>when I leave Pretoria on my motorbike, <br>when I say farewell to you, <br>at speed cut past cars on the highway</div><div style="margin:10px 0">where your auburn hair is now sun-drenched<br>but destiny throws out its dice, <br>while I am already missing you<br>and I have got to jump to where it throws my life</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and the black road twists like a snake, <br>still the sun is hot in a cobalt blue sky, <br>while the motorbike takes my full attention<br>and I see a swarm of birds flying up high; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">part of my life buzzes past with the wheels, <br>while you stay behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VII. I am already sleeping when you phone</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am already sleeping when you phone<br>(as if I have left you by my own choice) <br>you tell me about your loneliness, <br>say that you are missing me a lot, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that you are alone and do not want to affront me<br>and it’s as if the walls are folding in on you, <br>but the conversation is really saying<br>that you now see things in a different light</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and I realize that you are scared and your voice becomes thin, <br>is full of uncertainties and you want to know if I have got someone else, <br>in the distance over the phone I hear lightning bashing down, <br>the cat comes in through the window and climbs on the sideboard, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see that the big old clock pointing to after eleven<br>and I put the telephone down and wonder why you are phoning? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VIII. I lost you suddenly</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lost you suddenly<br>when I was again without a contracted job<br>and this crisis (of being without work) <br>happens over and over again</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and every time I have got to start from scratch, <br>while I am looking in confusion in the fog of live<br>that folds around me for meaning, <br>to something new to encourage me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You say that you also now at times <br>listen to Handel’s water music<br>and although it is beautiful, there is pain for me in it, <br>everything between us feels so final and settled, <br>it is as if your voice has stopped whispering in the evening wind<br>and it is as if that music starts my sadness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IX. Near Shoprite</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the parking aria near to Shoprite<br>in a remote corner three white people are sitting<br>with plastic bags, blankets, <br>unshaved, with uncombed hair, <br>two men and a woman<br>and the leader of the little group<br>turns tobacco from cigarette stubs<br>that they have picked up<br>into an old glass jar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Later they make cigarettes<br>from a old telephone guide and late afternoon, <br>sometimes at sundown, <br>this is their gathering place<br>and I see him drawing a match<br>against the sole of his worn leather shoe, <br>later they ask at DJ’s <br>if the black café owner has some leftovers<br>that he would throw away anyway.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They ask me for cigarettes<br>and I cannot help them<br>as I do not smoke, <br>I do not even have enough money on me<br>to buy a bread for them<br>of maybe a litre of milk, <br>I see how they try and make sheltering<br>from boxes for the night<br>and wonder where they hide<br>against the winter chill, <br>about what they do when it rains? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I long to have a conversation with you<br>and get an electronic mail<br>at the Internet café and you say </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that you have got a lot of time, <br>have thought about the problems<br>that you find <br>in your own personality</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and I wonder about your relationship<br>with your new friend, <br>who is probably working in Nelspruit, <br>but it’s not my concern.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>X. Away I am drawn from your words</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Away I am drawn from your words, <br>by deeds that I cannot make undone <br>as if the truth is taken <br>away by the torment flowing from <br>the words you are telling, <br>a tempest now enkindled <br>in your heart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I did not choose to part <br>but are like a sawn off tree <br>falling where destiny demands, <br>not where my desire wants, <br>grasping ever grasping <br>for the way that life used to be, <br>trying to have you close to me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>XI. How sad it is</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sad it is when fog the whole morning<br>hangs over this autumn, <br>and now I wonder where did I fit into your life<br>or were we just for moments, caught in each other? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Today I wonder about you<br>who with golden eyes could shine over my whole world, <br>see a couple of rainbows <br>where light comes down through the clouds, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and now after almost a year<br>I get an answer on my comment at your “ordinary woman”<br>and I am sorry that my words then did not spare you<br>and now wonder about the meaning of your words</div><div style="margin:10px 0">where your write: this poem is for you<br>wishing me well and I remember our times together.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>XII. Is it you or I? <br>  <br>How did I have to know<br>that love<br>carries no meaning to you<br>and what was between us<br>you viewed as a prison</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as if I am not even<br>a little bit in the picture<br>and the Lord God<br>does not behold everything, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">still I wonder<br>who in the end<br>will suffer the most<br>is it you or I? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>XIII. What is left to say? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What is left to say<br>that compulsively I wanted to get on my motorbike, <br>that today I wanted to love you like yesterday, <br>wanted to ride all the way to you, past the distant horizon? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That when dusk came I was wondering<br>if you are missing me, <br>that I was astounded by the beauty of the setting sun<br>and I wonder if the clouds are just as pretty, at the place where you are? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What is left to say<br>when I am still wondering where the end between us started, <br>wonder about opportunities left in this country, <br>and now I am a stranger to you whom I once loved? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maybe He had driven us apart, <br>or maybe you had mutated away? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">[Reference: Uttara by Kelwyn Sole.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gert+Strydom">Gert Strydom</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397600" data-title="At a utter lost in my own country (in answer to Kelwyn Sole) de Gert Strydom" data-description="I. Outside on the porch little bells dangle in the wind

Outside on the porch little bells 
dangle in the wind
(a new expensive set that you have bought) 
that we hear chiming even in our bedroom. 

My eyes follow you while you 
dress in a bathing..."></div>
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