For Sabata-mpho Mokae

Ruthless against the bastion of time
And all manners of fortification
Unchangeable being
Chipping away at the cliff-face of ignorance
and our moment is not forgotten

Imagined midnights
pen inks the moon
and they come to your dream
And there they stand,
The neat prints of the alphabet
on reddened snow
the words (of unwritten texts)

With eroded regret and anger
we adore the gaping wound
of Sobukwe’s tomb
Our tears have made gullies in his memory
Our enchantment
with the sparkle of the forgotten diamond
lying still in the sun
dream-dancing with Plaatje’s shadow
as patient as the horizon

(c) Phehello Mofokeng
28 September 2015, Bryanston, Joburg

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