When Death Claims a Comrade : Cecyl Esau

My heart refuses to wrinkle

Nerves too raw to numb

Loss flying like a yellow

Butterfly

Your voice still

Strumming the strings of my

Beingness

At seventeen your wide smile

Waited for my eyes

At the gate of a middle-class school

On my classroom stoep

Confidently your words

Ran the length of the cement

Speaking of Black, Green & Gold

Enticing me into

Mirrors of Freedom

Was it Fidel or Rumi that

Accompanied you ?

Was it Krotoa or Che ?

No

It was Love

As spaciousness and time

Wrinkles and rock

As satin & mielie meal

A fingering of fired

Filigree

You are gone !

©ghairodanielspoetry

Mar2021