Poem
Togara Muzanenhamo
II. Cemetery of the Union Benevolent Society
II. Kerkhof van de Union Benevolent Society
Verstrengelde ranken ademen over koelende ruggen steen,zongeaderde zegge drukt dicht tegen door de tijd versleten data.
De aarde rust gespannen, veronachtzaamd. Weer een zomer vangt aan.
De doden liggen hier zonder namen, de schakel der eeuwen roestig van enkelbanden
die stil een opwolkende nevel musketvuur in rennen.
De spoorweg zingt luid over schroothandelmetaal, door zonlicht vervormd.
Achter een verweerde schutting ligt Lexington, gesmeed door zuidelijk gebed –
baptistenwoorden wellend uit het hart,
begraven zangen gezongen
voor de loodzware mars naar elke kwikzilverige schemering
beteugeld door het zwarte lied van de zweep,
zangen gezongen door hen
die de donkere wegen
enkel waren gegaan om te leren
eenzaam te rennen en later te rijden.
II. Cemetery of the Union Benevolent Society
Tangled vines breathe over cooling backs of stone,sun-veined nut sedge bound tight over dates eroded by time.
The earth rests wired and neglected. Another summer comes to pass.
The dead lie without names here, the link of age rusted with ankle chains
running quiet into a fog of clouded musket fire.
The railroad sings loud over junkyard metal twisted by sunlight.
Beyond a trodden fence, Lexington sits forged by southern prayer –
Baptist words rising from the heart,
burdened songs sung
for the leaden-paced march into each quick-silvered twilight
reined by the whip’s black hymn,
songs sung by those
who’d walked the dark
roads only to learn
to run, then ride alone.
From: Textures
Publisher: amaBooks, Bulawayo
Publisher: amaBooks, Bulawayo
Poems
Poems of Togara Muzanenhamo
Close
II. Cemetery of the Union Benevolent Society
Tangled vines breathe over cooling backs of stone,sun-veined nut sedge bound tight over dates eroded by time.
The earth rests wired and neglected. Another summer comes to pass.
The dead lie without names here, the link of age rusted with ankle chains
running quiet into a fog of clouded musket fire.
The railroad sings loud over junkyard metal twisted by sunlight.
Beyond a trodden fence, Lexington sits forged by southern prayer –
Baptist words rising from the heart,
burdened songs sung
for the leaden-paced march into each quick-silvered twilight
reined by the whip’s black hymn,
songs sung by those
who’d walked the dark
roads only to learn
to run, then ride alone.
From: Textures
II. Cemetery of the Union Benevolent Society
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère