do you care?

you ask me if i care for the environment

what would you say if I told you
that my umbilical cord
is buried under a baobab tree

what if I told you that
i am zulu
that zulu means the weather
the heavens
the rain that is a soundtrack
to my prayer

that I catch each bead of heavenly water
on the tip of my tongue
to string a necklace to wear in supplication
to the munificence of the sun

that in my nakedness
i am sworn to tell the story
of the termite
whose coat is the hymen of my mother’s ore

that in my language
my breath is laced
with the inner garment of spirit
unveiling the rumour of winds without moisture

you ask me about endangered species
but do you not see the impaled tattoo on my soul
can you not see what I wear
on my wrist
a vellum inscribed with a silent promise
to sing the melody of the sacrificial blood
still oozing from the fields of my ancestors’ grazing

yet still you ask me
if I care about our planet
you preach to me from the pulpit of superiority
(necktie a tourniquet of impropriety)

why do you not ask me
why I grace the face of my mother
with the songline of my dreams
why my dance makes undulating patterns of unadulterated love
why I can mimic the bird of morning
and salute the sun with shapes of humility and gratitude
each time it is enfolded by the crimson wing of night

what would you say
if I held you even closer
and told you to
open your clasped hands
(arteries bulging to bursting)
and embrace me
so that the fossilised dust you hold for dear life
will not die an even deeper death

open your hands
and let it go…

just let go…….


©eugene skeef 210309