Guerilla

She saw him

clad in a long black trench coat

a rugged newspaper slotted under his arm

with a beard almost sweeping the red soil

He walked silently like the rumbling of fallen leaves

His eyes tossing side by side like mounted AKs

as if aware of the mulch of danger that covered his face

She saw him

detached from the village he crossed

with a gaze that estranged her

as if she had always been a shadow

He walked like a battalion

Ready to charge, to vanquish the enemy

engulfed in a deep pool of disciplinary silence

She saw him

disappear like a ghost

Waging a war in her head

setting her against her own eyes

Was he the calm breeze that followed?

or the stone that rattled against the calm breeze?

Was he the cabbage that suddenly grew rich in colour?

or was he the fiery anger that flew from her eyes?

Was she the enemy now?

was this Parks* where he was studying?

who was he?

did she see him?

*its suspected that Parks refers to Parktown Boys High School

1985 (The Baptism)

They won't tell you about it

It was draped  in a blissfully festive

Dusty villages where not without a tale

And music could be heard all corners

Drunkards drunk and everyone tipsy

The old guitarist sat in the corner

Strumming the strings as ladies sang

Though he sang the loudest

But the merry men danced all day

While children clogged the carless

We had no sinners in the tent

Until that young man arrived

He spoke with a tongue so soft

Made many speak in tongues

in chaos never seen before

They did not drink petrol

Nor munch on the rich green grasses

But they were fed the body of God

And His blood they drank

shaken to a new birth

The queued like a flock down the valley

One by one to that young man draped in white

With one gasp he shoved them in

and out came a new creature

until the whole village could see

They saw sin as it came

to be the order of the day

in the midst of newness