They drove into the sun! Quite sure
that watching a hill for health, and
sawing wood against its grain
strengthens one, gilds the furniture,
they entered the village and parked
bakkies near our home, spilling out
to disappear inside. We stayed still,
waiting for a sign from the sun. I remarked
that dad was shaking and asked why,
why we stood there in that sad sun
while they ransacked our home. Then
Autumn killed itself and died,
giving me the reason as it gave
bark to the earth, leaves, everything
Lesotho winds like to fling at
the seasoned gods, the dust,
the passionate dust of twig and leaf
that brings out setsokotsane whorls,
even as the face turns cold, and pales
with winter. And that is Africa.
What is more, I’ve seen winds twist
on themselves to hide the thing within.
That day God held his breath, and
all those winds got quiet,
showing the very life inside.
© Rethabile Masilo