Dark houses and other poems

Ayanda Billie

dark houses

I drank the wind
the narrowing moon
the fading mist
and the noise from the tavern
 

ageing leaders
the ones who made this freedom possible
ride on a gravy train
it’s the only train still running
metrorail is in pieces
 

among the rain and streets
hurrying footsteps and troubled faces
rush to their dark houses

— —

it’s strange 

It feels strange
to wake up,
hear taxis
from a distance hooting
 

to open the window
pull the curtains back
and see the sky
gathering mutilated clouds
and the sun retreating
 

it’s strange that the night
always goes with a soul lost
last night a security guard
was gunned down
 

this country
our country
does not want peace
it vomits pain

— —

we gave ourselves

we used to drive to western cape twice a year
and talk, laugh long and listen to our music
stop in each town, still today knysna is our favorite,
made for resting and wild peace.
 

we gave ourselves to the road and the long silences
that sometimes buried the music,
we drove past small towns where we saw no one
only a tractor in a middle of a field.
 

i’ve been meaning to tell you
that of all the things i love about you
maybe it’s those long drives
that meant the most to me.

— —

the voice across the street   

if ever they could hear your voice
they will want you
 

to sing every day
            everywhere
 

they will not sleep
until your voice dissipates the mist,      
 

beware
of how they will interpret you
 

in this place everything
can be turned to ashes.

— —

abandon my shadow

i find stars on the ground cold, hear voices wrapped in my head – trees talking.

my eyes follow the motion of birds flying into the clouds – some never return.

dense mist surrounds the township, voices of children fading – the streets going to sleep.

i abandon my shadow on the street playing hide and seek with a nameless dog.

i’m sucked in by the sofa in front of the tv – seven o’clock news.