Pieces II

There is a poem called Pieces
It's an echo of a shattering heart
Written in the mind
Of the heart that is no longer
Of a soul that is no longer Godly
Pieces are falling
Wrapt in sweet red rosey affection
A glue that couldn't hold it together

Do you love and leave?
And hope nothing shatters?

What if it's a heart full of gold?
And not just the locks

Do you let gold shatter?
And watch as pieces fly

There is a poem called Pieces
It tells of gold pieces
It echoes of gushing blood
A golden heart torn apart

As they say, love was the motive

Nomzamo

Don't take her home too quickly
She never left us
Don't rush her home
She is at home with the people
Soweto is her home
Sweet showers from heaven
Not a curse but a blessing
Her race is complete
Dont rush her
Let her stay a bit with us
Another minute
Another second
She is our mother
(On the day of the funeral of Winfred Nomzamo Madikizela-Mandela)

This thing of ours

It's beautiful
It's taboo