Sometimes reality is dubious to me.

Hennie Aucamp has a beautiful poem called ‘n Buurman Digteby (a close neighbour).  The poem describes the presence of a ghost, presumably the awareness of death by whom we are all followed throughout life.

At times I’ve wondered if that ghost always stays in its place.

 

Real World Relative

 

A wraith came to you –
It anointed you with a charming vocative;
And you came to believe its fictional narrative.

A wraith came to you –
You did not know, you could not see;
How painful this ghastly vision would be.

A wraith came for you –
For someone you had never met;
How unwittingly you joined a funeral set.

A wraith beseeched you – littering pity;
A ghost lulled you to believe its authenticity.

Transference is death to suspicion;
Of course, you expected human, not apparition.

You … one of those to fiddle a string;
In the ominous darkness, another soul can bring.

Insisting on its sacrificial pyre;
It shrivelled you into the dark wood of its desire.

A wraith came to you:

Embalm now the scars suffered –
By those who toiled to fight with fire;
You … with your innocence perpetually for hire.

Fear comes too late
To those who walk this line
As sincerely as you have loved
As bitterly would you eventually hate.

 

6 March 2017