its musicality, crucial histories, lost poetry

dusty bibles recording deaths births

umbilical connection to specific piece of earth

travelling, morphing, uncovering fragments of self

as the distance from and definition of home grows

propelling soul into new soil, spirit to new planes

learning in leaving, the severing and love in the return

To the woman holding onto to the pain of her past
the one paralysed by the rawness of fresh mourning
reinforcing her patterns of blame, brewing righteous bitterness
burdened, imprisoned by her own fear, unforgiveness, regret
I whisper : awaken my sister, let go, walk away

To the goddess within all women, waiting to be recognised, embraced
the one who will not show her face or need to shout out her name
resting in the knowledge that it is a courageous journey to this meet mirror

anticipating the return of all daughters, sisters, mothers who’ve lost their way

I whisper: I am afraid, I am here, I am home

Poetree

Complexi-trees

Centena-trees

Liber-trees

Sexuali-trees

Sensuali-tree

Possibili-trees

Communi-trees

Humani-tree

Galax-trees

Mys-trees

Synchronici-trees

Divini-tree

Simplici-tree

Infini-tree

We weave within then outside of each others’ radius

Not knowing when the leaving or arrival will occur

Or believing it is possible to lose the scent

Forget the intimate vibration of someone

You spent years of your life, shared your temple with

In the end, these circle remains unclosed, the people

Perhaps less visible or central to your voyage

Moving on but never actually completely gone

Then unexpectedly synchronicity recalls

A person, a place, a chapter you need to revisit

And in those visceral moments you are reunited

You are alive and awake to who you once were

Sight, smell, even taste returns incinerating the distance

Evaporating all the you-s you have become

Inside the woman sits the smiling girl

Inside the man runs the laughing boy

Life spirals, dancing us into and out of dreaming

We weave within then outside of each others’ radius

Not knowing when the leaving or arrival will occur

BBC – BBC Radio 4 Programmes – Something Understood, Starting Over

www.bbc.co.uk

Paul Bakibinga explores loss and how to get going again after a major life setback.

How this sky water has nurtured this Earth daughter

A willing captive under layers of clothing, in boots, around fires

Under umbrellas, she can only think of songs in response to these showers

Internal waves of gratitude that she is privileged

To have a range of options for shelter, so getting wet

is a chosen delight not an insult to her skin, a dampening of spirit.

Naming her firstborn son after this source, she knows

how so much grows when like water, like tears, you surrender to the flow.

at delicate crisp dead leaves clinging

to the still green stem of the potted creeper

in the corner of my carport

I cannot tell if it is the bent back stance

or the way I mutter to myself

tossing away the brown fronds and cobwebs

clasping the assortment of rocks and shells

on the surrounding bricks and blue ceramic tiles

or the confident speed with which I separate

the dead from the living

the obstructions to growth

unafraid of meeting unexpected insect

getting my hands muddy, spending this precious time

focussed on this task

instead of seemingly more pressing matters

waiting at my desk

and perhaps it is all of these things and finally

the involuntary humming

spiralling up from my chest

which reminds me, viscerally

of my grandmother nearly six years gone

her unforgettable unwieldy garden

the evocative, heartfelt gospel songs

she wove into her weeding and seeding

her blanket of green wrapped around the house

continuously infused with her extra-ordinary history

my extended family’s expanding trove of memory

dedicated to my gran Margaret Myra Conning

(6th January 1915 – 7th August 2006)

Find my tribute track for her here http://malika.co.za/music.html

Swirling in and out of view

Under night sky canopy

She sings you closer to me

Me closer to you