A Poem
By Sithembiso Mdlalose
It took me forever to write these words
I’m still writing these words
This poem is unfinished
And I don’t know if it ever will
Like how my adolescent black body longed
For his presence
Running barefooted
With an unfinished sketch of him in my mind
Nothing seemed permanent
F…
F…
Fa…
Father!
My father
The man whose blood runs through my veins
And whose image I find hard to trace
Nothing seems permanent
So I gave everyone around me a taste of my blues,
But mostly keeping to myself
Making homes out of idle words
Building shelters out of empty promises
Running barefooted
inside the house I built
My speech is an unfinished sketch of him
I ran,
stuttering wildly trying to finish it
But I kept on stammering
F…
F…
Fa…
Father!
Nothing seemed complete
Until I bumped into her
Her
My Mother
Her rebukes
Her beatings
Her angry look
Her no’s
and her yes’s
Her cooking
And her prayers
In them, I found a home
But,
nothing seems permanent
Hymn hymn hymn hymn
Hymn hymn…
Sunday morning hymning to Ezra Ngcukana ’s standard jazz piece on the radio
Hymn hymn hymn hymn
Hymn hymn…
I swear to God I could hear God speak through her hymning
“Here are your shoes
This is the imagine
It is complete”
“This is home”.
