Tuesday, May 20, 2014

IMAGES THROUGH A CRACKED MIRROR

IMAGES THROUGH A CRACKED MIRROR
© Farouk Asvat


          Come, my child,
            Let me teach you
            Teach you
            About those brutes
            That kill our children
            Besmirch our women
            Smother our men

            Come, my child,
            Let me teach you
            Teach you to hate
            Hate with equal passion
            For you know
            Too much love
            My child


                      My people still wait
                        For some Black Moses
                        Come to liberate my country;
                        But the weaving lies in the hand of the weaver
                        Revolutions are made by revolutionaries
                        And those living on hope
                        Will have only hope to feed upon
                        For destiny determines nothing


          Death descends on those defenceless:
            The political prisoner slipping on soap
            The baby sucking in vain
            Upon the brown dry cracked landscape
            Of her mother's breast


                      Marx's children forget
                        That this is not the British Museum
                        In the nineteenth century
                        That Azania's children
                        Speak for Azania
                        That the drumbeat of our ancestors
                        Speak of bloody rains
                        And bitter peace


          Your children have forgotten you, F.A.
            They merely burn candles in protest
            Veering between obsequity to the Whiteman
            And disdain for the stinking Zim


                      Do not sing to me of love
                        That flourishes in the spring
                        And gardens that kaleidoscope in summer

                        Between these prison walls
                        There are black hands
                        Ready
                        To pluck khaki weeds


          Our ancestors are young men
            Too nominal to plant their seeds
            Or nurture an African harvest

            So we plant their supple bodies
            In freshly tilled earth
            Singing and dancing
            As we die
            Our way to another death




© farouk asvat


[] composed: 1976 [Johannesburg, South Africa under apartheid].


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[] Acknowledgements:

Images Through A Cracked Mirror was previously published in:

                Descant 69, vol 21 (2) (Descant, Toronto, Canada, p35, Summer 1990);
                The Wind Still Sings Sad Songs (piquant publications, p103, 2006).

() Come My Child (as You Know Too Much Love,
part of Images Through A Cracked Mirror): previously published in:
                Belgravia High School brochure
                (Belgravia High school, Silver Jubilee, Cape Town, p29, 1981)};

() My People (still wait):
part of Images Through A Cracked Mirror): previously published in
                University Students' Bursary Committee (Witwatersrand, p11, 1981);
                Vuka (Crescent Publications, Durban, p31, 1981)};



© farouk asvat.  All rights reserved.

Farouk Asvat asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means whatsoever, or transmitted in any form or any means whatsoever, mechanical or electronic, including recording, printing, photocopying, or via any computerised means or media, including the internet.  This publication shall also not be stored in a retrieval system.  And the writing shall not be sold, lent, hired, resold or circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published,
without the prior permission of the author in writing.

Permission to publish or reproduce the writings in any format can be obtained from the author.

Reproduction of this work without permission, except for scholarly purposes,
is liable to a payment of 10, 000 ren men bi or US$ 1,500.

farouk asvat can be contacted at: farouk.asvat@gmail.com


[] please check out my blogs @:

farouk asvat - poems:
www.faroukasvat-poems.blogspot.com

weapons of words:
www.faroukasvat-viewpoint.blogspot.com

streetwise:
www.faroukasvat-lingo.blogspot.com

books by farouk asvat:
www.piquantpublications.blogspot.com


[] also see my profiles on:

google+ :
https://plus.google.com/116303232543019349765

linkedin:
www.linkedin.com/pub/farouk-asvat/42/6b6/52a

twitter:
www.twitter.com/FAROUKASVAT

facebook:
www.facebook.com/faroukasvat

goodreads ¡poetry!:
www.goodreads.com/FAROUKASVAT


[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
The anthology The Time Of Our Lives by Farouk Asvat
is now available on amazon kindle @ only $5.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

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