[For Tlhaki Joe Lekganyane]

they have to darken slowly and ripen
coming together | going apart
pushed like gray paper kites in the wind
tails swinging for attention in an unadorned sky
they have to rob the sun of its hard day
for our work | the seed scattered
during spring’s unending miseries of staying
during a struggle for rising and saying our say
the clouds of black have to happen
the woolen spongy silvery strips of breath
have to make way for the bold coming
the mighty push off in the coming of the wind
the light reasonably | peaceably
having to give up the ghost | to birth anew
while the seeds of spinach beans and wheat
break with the shameful past of storms
as the clouds of black gather for us all
and rain the rain on fertile soil
we have to pray for the showers brother
for no such thing as lightning should frighten us
the sun shall rise again for us
light will soon be back from tomorrow
in the new season of joy and abundant smiles
at the rendezvous of struggle heroes
a place called home

Jaki Seroke