The Great Tussle

Treading on treacherous ground,
Risking life and limb,
We would be wise to know
The end is nigh.

Pinned to a corner,
We claim naivety,
Shirk all responsibility,
Cower and blame the gods.
Won’t we just
Stand up and be counted?

when the words won't come...

Was it Kojo or Rethabile who reminded us of this just the other day? Been trying to write.For the longest time(it sure feels). Did not manage to come up with anything. It's been weeks; months, even. Closer to two years, to be exact. Yet there is so much that's been going through my mind. How can I find my voice,again?

The thing

Is there a difference between

knowing what we want

in life and actually going for it?

is this difference the very act

of going for it? The thing maybe

crystal clear in our minds, but the

going for it on a day to day basis

renders it a bit elusive.

at times, it actually seems

to be ever sliding farther

and farther - the more we

attempt to get it!

How can it be then, that our getting

the thing or not, is largely

up to us?

Do we need to factor in

the friends, weather, mood

and chutzpah that can

always influence how far

we stretch to get near

the thing on any day?

But now, seeing that

when we look around us,

we conclude that

the great sportsmen, actresses

and successful professionals

among us, have got their thing,

we feel we see that the thing

is within reach.

Maybe then, the key is

to find the thing,

firstly, inside us,

then live with and by it.

Bashemane

had we not come this far
to see the men, we would
have felt no pride
seeing them thus,
gleaming with red ochre.

strangely arrogant they were,
in their unwashed bodies,
exuding a strong odour
of manly defiance.

from where we stood,
we felt no inclination
to pretend we had rights
to stand nearer and face them.

we stood with the women
because we had never
had the experience.

and yet the women themselves,
we were uncomfortably aware,
had disapproving countenances;
clearly abashed, to be near
our uninitiated selves.

Keep going…

if we were to balk at the
idea of a life lived in
the pursuit of service,

we would not understand
why our work is never done;
why there is ever so much to
be done, with finite resources.

when we do chance upon
moments when our spirits
soar, giving us that rare
feeling of infinite chutzpah,

we ought to realize then,
that we owe it to ourselves
to make every minute count;
we just have to stick it out
to the very end.

© phomolo lebotsa

Resigned to my karma

I have a sense of purpose.
I know that what I do
Contributes to a greater whole.
It makes a difference for mankind.

I am able to rise above
petty differences that could
get in my way, obscure my view,
Preclude me from seeing the big picture.

I have carved a cavern for myself,
Where I crawl in, knuckle down
and get on with what it is I am good at.

I don’t worry about the price of oil,
Or the anguish borne by my forefathers
As they did their bit to build a legacy
for the masters’ children. All I can do
is to know and to remember.

It is really not cold in this shell.
These fans billowing to keep
the textiles dry, are merely contraptions
to entertain my rheumy eyes.
This is not a hard concrete floor
numbing my feet with its iciness;
it is valuable storage space
For these finished garments,
which will soon adorn
The bodies of my brothers and sisters.
A pair of Levi’s or a Gap sweater
are commensurate to my health.
They are well worth the pain
I have started feeling in my chest these days.

I have a sense of purpose.
I know that what I do
Contributes to a greater whole.
It must be of value to the world.
How can it not be, when I get paid
Less than a dollar a day
For my pain?

Up and Down we go

When, at the prime of our lives, the future looms
Smiling at our faces, we begin to realize
We can either wave her away,
Or yank her with our make-believe reins,
Tugging her closer to come
Quench our thirst for fulfillment.

We hang-on to the see-saw that is life,
Close our eyes and lose ourselves.
As we bob and gag a laugh,
We raise our heads to the skies
And wonder why we keep forgetting
To live here. Now.

Reality Check

I have been to a place
where young boys and girls
roll merrily on lush lawns
as they drink-in the joy of life.

I have also had to embrace
life in putrid hell-holes,
where the death of
one man was not
worth a mere mention.

In the unlikely event of
a chance to choose between
the two, I would have to
forfeit my turn.
For reality teaches us
that life consists of
treading the boundaries of
the latter place, while willfully
walking towards the former.