made it back from Lesotho in one piece. the trip was quite successfull, with the biggest moment for me being when my old school was shut down for two hours so all the students could come watch us perform ... surreal experience, and now that it has been years since I left, the teachers (who had been there while i was there) had wonderful things to say about me. anyway, the whole journey kind of confused me - i have spent the last five/six years trying to contribute to the development of poetry and literature in south africa, and neglected my own home country... where it is needed even more.
I grew up in a city where there were, and are, no avenues for any exploration of the arts, in any form.... no music schools, no theatre groups, community centres, not even a national arts council. the issue that plagues me is how do i throw my soul into a country that is not my own, without even contributing to progress in my own. no answers, yet! but there will be.... watch this space!
it bleeds from pores
drips in a slow rhythm
drops splatter and dance
and rest in puddles of thought
it seeps out follicles
colouring the dullness of life's grey
with bright red and deep crimson
it carries essence
in streams that flow
through spirit
it wipes chaos clean
brings hope
....... is life ...... blood poetry .......
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2 comments:
Sometimes the answers become apparent much later, sometimes not at all. But, yes, it is the search......
Peace...............
the search makes the trip interesting ... the destination is always fleeting, which is what makes it all so much fun. still recovering from the pic on your blog, helen.
easy
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