A page of my book: 'A poem' from a friend.

1. 92 93
child
the child his eyes, the child in her gaze,
the two nestled,
in memory-folds
the child – a face carved from an infinite moment
a line of sight, tender, coursing
through wood, cloud, steel
seeking a point
meeting/melting/fusing point...
... in the heart, my fertile core
the child from Langa, the child foraging
in the skip at Kigali
the little waste-picker in Kisumu
the child with a toy gun
the child laughing
the shy-smile child
the child in scuffed shoes on the dirt road, near bizana
the child of a child
the oscillating child on a rusted swing
will break forth
the child in this time or in worlds to come or from oceans past
will be king of hearts, leader, truth-bearer
will be a mouth of wisdom to a people
warm bundle held tight
being connected with mother’s womb
pulse flowing back to mother’s core
womb connected with your slightness
convex filling concave
womb linked to womb to sacred spaces connecting with time
woven thread to cord to woven thread
child born & hoped for & talked to & dreamt up & cherished & nurtured to be
Frank Meintjies