The Brazen Serpent
       Daphne Taylor

a.

In the Desert of False Belief and Action,
the Children wander -
so long! so long!
and their Father who had been pulled
from the River of Abandonment,
cannot make them see the Path -
so long! so long!

Time sends them Trials and Tricks
Traps without number;
each a darting twisting Snake
whose Venom strikes their Stream -
diverting all Hope and Direction
from the Promised Land

shedding Tears they smart -
so long! so long!
and cry out to their Father:
deflect the Poison,
heal our punctured Souls,
clap the Snake Heads before they rear
Save us, Save us!

And their Father, at night in the Tent where Night is spent,
on the Desert Sands, quiet with sleeping Birds,
divines a means:
make a Snake, a Brazen Snake that burns and quicks;
he makes a Brazen Snake and sets it
at each Child’s Gate

And when a spitting Snake spits,
and a biting Snake bites, and a coiling Snake screws tight,
the Children gaze upon the Gate and
the eyes of the Brazen Snake heal Wounds,
glowing eyes that never blink -
no matter the sin, the need for solace -
they draw the stinging from the Soul
balming eyes that restore 

So the Father speaks, and the Children gather,
the Children, wandering in the Desert
so long! so long!
tormented Day and Night, cry out:  We hear you, Father,
your Path is now clear,
when the Snakes of the Desert rise up and afflict us,
we will gaze upon your Brazen Snake

And  when the Snakes of the Desert -
some crawling from their Crevices
some suspended from the Thorns of Trees
some idling in the Shallows of a Waterhole
some hidden in Mountain Caves -
when the Snakes of the Desert approach,
the Children gaze upon their Gates
and reflect on their Father’s Brazen Snake
and the Venom of the Desert turns to Honey,
the Coils of the Desert are thrown off,
Fangs that ripped the Flesh are bored blunt

The Children collect and bury their Dead
for the sake of  the Living

and Rejoice   
so long! so long!

b.

so it was in the time that children wandered
and snakes afflicted them between the
mountain and the sea
on the sands of their desolate learning
they gazed upon the gates
and found their teacher’s pitiless compassion 

they did not flinch as the glowing eyes
of the brazen snake
joined father and mother
unity in mystery
time of wisdom
they burnt off the dross

 

Business
        Manfred Zylla

Imagine the dreams
of those who mined your gold
  imagine the dreams of those
who mined

imagine

the dreams of those who mined your gold
   imagine the dreams

     *

at first
you were open
   and relaxed despite
your shadow on the wall
 the sundial
 shafting  flesh

you wore shades for
protection
and stood in the sun
with your pants on
   and made a golden tie
to drape round your shoulders
-a tie of golden threads
many threads  millions of
brilliant particles
pure sun turned to shiny threads of
pleasure

you draped the tie
folding the glittering strands
layer upon layer of threaded metal
till the golden tie was knotted
round your throat   throttling
denying you breath
till your golden glittering tie
streaked with red
   strangled you

and the shades you wore for protection -
defending your sight against
pure burning light -
fell and cracked    were smashed
beside a brick of treasure
bric a brac    a golden block 
laying upon a page       (torn from the book of deals)
on which was written:

imagine the dreams dreamt by those
who mined your gold

 imagine

 

Botha’s Baby
       Gavin Younge

Babe leaves the breast (the nest
warm, sweet milk streaming from mama
fountainous mama

babe is taken from the breast
placed in a High Chair

time to chew    time to turn the cud
baby chair with straps and bars
high seat of judgement
High Chair from which to be fed
the broth of lovingkindness
the papa and vleis of hate
the rules of eating your neighbour alive
broth seasoned with gun droppings
stiff porridge for thick necks

babe taken from the breast and strapped into a
High Chair

invasions/disqualifications/displacements/
psychophallic degradation

regime of forced feeding
lie after lie
till gut turns to gat
bread bakes fattened with boerewors
babe feeds and bites the bullet
mister botha’s baby
ready to smile for the bullet

 

The Dancing Sisters
       Sidney Khumalo

The sisters of love and joy
rabbis
drunk

tilt their legs sky way    high way
arch arms    a covenant
melody of constant labour

the sisters dance
giving birth
to dance

 

The White Wall On The Hill
       Edward Rowarth

On the hill above the city
square walls enclose a grave
the city, a blur of white squares
this grave place quiet
despite the swarm of ants and worms
city faint yet strong with light
a saint is buried in the grave
scavengers come to dissect him
come to pray on the hill
the bones of a holy man lie buried
four points join the white wall
high on the hill above the human colony
white wall squaring death
over which a palm
tree spreads its dates

 

Untitled Portrait (Of A Man)
      Gerard Bhengu

Man  . . .

the head, turbaned crown above
a blanketed chest,
below your wrinkled brow
cutting sticks follow your nose
anguished waves stretching, rolling across
your eyes, shifting . . .
   observing an angle?

eyes cannot look directly
at the bringer of news -
the daily roll, call of hard times, the ruts -
the groans . . .

your eyes   full

of sad anger     

Man   

  name unknown
or thrown away
  wonder
why       extinguished fire
hell of a lot in your eyes
the rack of time’s trouble
  has no need of a title

just call you   a man  among men