Creation’s Yes!An anthology of poems on creation

Editor - Heather Johnston

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Creation’sYes!

SallyArgent,DavidBarbour,LaurieGaum,AllenGoddardandJohnRoff

DrawingsbyJackieCook

EditedbyHeatherJohnston

PublishedbyARochaSouthAfrica

Creation’sYes!Copyright©ARochaSouthAfrica,2014

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ISBN:978-0-620-65582-8

PublishedbyARochaSouthAfrica,April2015south.africa@arocha.org

AllRightsReservedNopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,storedinaretrievalsystem,ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans-electronicallyorotherwise-withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofthepublisher.

Coverphotograph:AllenGoddardCoverdesign:DavidBarbour

PrintedandboundbyDesignAPrint0219759648

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Creation’sYes!Selectedpoemsby

SallyArgent,DavidBarbour,LaurieGaum, AllenGoddardandJohnRoff

withdrawingsbyJackieCook

“Creation’sYes!”isaninvitationtodrinkdeeplyfromthewellofnaturepoetrymarkedbysimplicity,attentionandloveforcreation.Thepoets’ownexperiencesshinethroughtheirwork.

SusanRakoczyIHM,PhD-StJoseph’sTheologicalInstitute

Thesearepoemsinresponsetodeepfeeling.WhetheritbethehorrorofMarikana,thelegacyofinequality,orthebeautyofaBateleur,thepoetsinthisdebutcollectionwillhelpyouseethisworldwithfresheyes.

KobusMoolman–PoetandSeniorLecturer,UniversityofKwaZulu-Natal

ItisdeeplyrefreshingtoreadthiscelebrationofSouthAfrica'swonderfulcreatedworld.Sooftenenvironmentaldiscourseisfullofforeboding,buthereeven the lamentation �inds lyrical forms thatpromise redemption.Taketimetoslowdownandentertheworldofthesepoetsastheynoticeandwritefromtheirheartsofalltheyseeandfeelaroundthem.

PeterHarris–Co-FounderofARochaandAuthor

SallyArgent DavidBarbour LaurieGaum AllenGoddard JohnRoff

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Contents

1. Acknowledgements p.1

2. Foreword p.3

3. SallyArgent p.5

4. DavidBarbour p.23

5. LaurieGaum p.37

6. AllenGoddard p.45

7. JohnRoff p.65

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Acknowledgements

The following poems by Sally Argent have been publishedpreviously:

‘TheVisitor’inCarapace‘InPraiseofSolitude’inDif�iculttoExplain

Several of John Roff’s poems are also previously published, in APocketfulofPinsandObservations,publishedbySharenet,Howick,2013.

This anthology provides only South African common names forplantandanimalspecies.Latinnomenclatureof �lora isprovidedintwoexceptions,forclarity.

Nobookcomes intobeingby itself.SothereareseveralpeopleIwouldliketothankfortheirhelpinbringingtherawmaterialsforthisvolumeintoacloseknitharmoniouswhole.

A big thank you to Michael Collie and SPCK Australia forfacilitating the generous donation for the A Rocha South Africawriters’workshopwhichbirthedthisanthology.

ThankyoutoEstelleKruger,SarieWessels,andAnnetteSnic kers,togetherwithSallyandAllen, for theirhelp in the translationofLaurie Gaum’s poems from Afrikaans to English, thus giving hisworkamuchwiderreadership.

Thank you to Barbara Mearns for her help in a pre-edit of thematerialandforherencouragementtothepoets.AndaheartfeltthankstoJackieCookforherdelightfuldrawings.

Finally,thepoetsandIwouldliketothanktheARochaBoardfortheirhelpinthe�inalprocessofpublishingtherawmaterialsintothelovelyanthologyyoucannowenjoy.

HeatherJohnston

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Foreword

Manyworkshops leave delegatesweary, dejected, anxious aboutimplementing new ideas, and sapped of energy. Some othersproduceparticipantswitha renewedsenseofvisionanda freshenthusiasm for energizing projects. Suchwas the 2012 A RochaSouthAfricaWriters’WorkshopheldintheWesternCapeofSouthAfrica. From it came new writers in a variety of genres. Theyincluded�ivepoetswhosededicationtolovingandcaringfortheenvironment has propelled them into meeting regularly toreceive, readand resonatewithwhat is valuable in eachother’swork.

So they have been writing new poems about creation with thepoet’s mission to show rather than tell. The result is thisanthology Creation’s Yes!where youmay read aboutmoles andbatsatnight,oraboutnoviceswalkinginsilentcontemplationofthe mysteries surrounding them. You will �ind yourself beingasked hard questions about mining tragedies and poverty andinequality,andyoumightsighasabutter�lyleavesyouwithonlyagentlereminderofwhatmighthavebeen.

Wehopeyoulikethecollection.Butmorethanthatwehopethatas you read, yourmindswill engagewith somenew concepts –when lastdidyouworshipyourCreatorinacathedralnotmadewithhands,orwhen lastdidyou turn togooutyourbackdoor,onlyto�indanelandstandingquietlythere?

Whatever, our hope is that the images described, the questionsasked,theconclusionssuggestedordrawn,willhelpyou inyourresponsetotheCreatorasweaf�irmHiminourresoundingYes!

HeatherJohnston

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SallyArgent

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IwasborninJohannesburgonthetopoftheWitwatersrand.Therockstratawhichoutcroppedinourgarden,thespringrisingjustbeyondourgardengate,thespectacularsummerthunderstormsthat seemed to break just overhead, and the MagaliesbergMountains,oftenvisited,weregeographicrealitiesthatshapedmychildhoodandsharpenedmysensitivitytothenaturalworld.

Initially,havingquali�iedasatownandregionalplanner,Iworkedin Johannesburg’s metropolitan team, designing andimplementinganopenspacesystem.Havingtopublishguidestothevariouswalkingtrailswasmyintroductiontowriting.

After moving to Cape Town I volunteered at KirstenboschNationalBotanicalGardensandjoinedateamtocompilethebookDiscovering Indigenous Forests at Kirstenbosch. MeetingKhayelitsha craftsman, Golden Nongawuza, was a profoundexperience, and on receipt of a grant from the CommunityPublishingProject Iwasable towriteandpublishhisstory, TheFlowerFields.

In Cape Town I rediscovered my childhood joy of drawing andpaintingandstartedillustratingthestoriesandarticlesIwroteforthe Wildlife Society’s magazine, Enviro-kids. The discovery ofcontemplativeprayerdevelopedlaterinlifethroughafoundationcourse in Christian Spirituality. I received spiritual directionmyself and �inally trained as a retreat leader. Creativity,spirituality and environment are threadswoven throughmy lifeandmypoemsexpressdelight inthenaturalworldandmydeepawarenessofthespiritualwithinit.

I would like to thank Finuala Dowling for her formative poetryclasses,Andrew,myhusbandandourchildren,Jonathan,Brendanand Lucy. My special thanks also to Heather Johnston for herencouragementandpatience.

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SallyArgent’sPoems

1. Mandela’sGold p.08

2. Redemption p. 9

3. Everlasting p.10

4. TheVisitor p.11

5. TheSculptor p.12

6. ANoteAboutRetreats p.13

7. Visitation p.14

8. ForestRetreat p.15

9. RetreatatLangebaan p.17

10. MasterTracker p.20

11. TheFrancolins p.21

12. InPraiseofSolitude p.22

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Mandela’sGoldAtKirstenboschthebotanistshavebredabloomtocelebratethe�loweringofdemocracy-astrelitziaofcomplementarycolours,sky-blueandorange-yellow.Walkingpastthebushofbendingstemsandheavy�lowerheadsIsawa�lashofruby-red,andemerald-green,ajewelledsunbird,slippingascimitarbeakbetweenthepointedpetalfolds,tosiptheseamsofliquidgold.Likethatbird,weareanationnurturedontheprecioussap-alifepouredout-Mandela’sGoldMandela’s Gold strelitzias growing inside Kirstenbosch Gardens near theCamphorAvenue are a favourite haunt of LesserDouble-Collared andOrange-BreastedSunbirds.

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RedemptionTheyfounditalmostdeadwithindeepshadebeneathdenseundergrowth,almostinvisible.Butsomeonesaw-half-deadisalsohalf-alive-carriedithome,removedthedamagedlimbs,gavetwoyearsoftendercare.Redemptioncanhappenifyouaregentle,taketime,givewater,food thewarmthofsunlightjusttherightamountofspace.Nowafragmentofitsseamedandfurrowedtrunkbearsfragilebranchlets,andasmatteringofyoung,greenleaves.Weathered,aged,butnolongerdying,itstandsproud-aWildOliveBonsaiofahundredand�iftyyears.This poem was inspired by the words about a Wild Olive Bonsai donated toKirstenbosch for their permanent collection by theOyamaBonsai Kai in 1999anddisplayedattheBonsaiexhibitionsof2011-2012andMay2013.

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EverlastingEverlasting,Sewejaartjie,�lowerthatneverfades.Woolly-stemmed,delicate,tissue-paperpetalsclothedinyellow-gold,strawberry-pink,orfawnonsilver-white,yourootonwindsweptvlaktes,inrockycleftsandpermafrost,sand-blasteddune-streets,winter-watermarshland.Brightstarsofthefynbos,youthriveinharshness.Firstseenandlovedwithintheveld,youbecameaniconinmylife-alover’sletterfromamountaintop,aposyformy21standatourwedding,button-holeandaltar�lowersofchoice.Today,truetothetenacious natureofyourgrowth,youremainasacredsymbol…hopeofEverlasting.A literal translation of the Afrikaans �lower name Sewejaartjie, Helichrysumsyncarpa,wouldbe“LittleSevenYears”. IhaveencounteredmanyoftheseinmywanderingsinthemountainsoftheWesternCape.

vlaktes–wideplains.

FynboscomprisesmostoftheCapeFloralKingdomwhichishometomorethan6800plantspecies,5800ofthese,foundnowhereelseintheworld.

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TheVisitorWehadavisitoryesterday,fromoutoftown.Hesatintheparkacrosstheroad,watching;watchingandlisteningtothechatterasnanniesinbrightheadscarvesgavejuiceandbiscuitstothetoddlersintheircharge.Iwatchedhimcranehisneck,hiseyesfollowingtheballasIthrewitformydog.Hispresencescaredthepigeonscomingforthecrustsleftfromsomeone’slunch,fortheyroseasoneandsweptaway…hedidnotmove.Hewasstilltherelateafternoonwhenloversleftthebenchforthelonelygirlwhocame,asshealwaysdoes,towatchtheghostofherdoglongsincedead,wanderslowlyroundthepark.Iwonderedifhewashurt,orresting;orwaitingforthetwilightwhenthestripedmiceemergeandscurryonmousepathsinthetussockygrass.ButasIwatchedhimwatchingmewithhis�iercegoldeye,heliftedgreat,greywings,wheeledaround,and�lappedsilentlyawayintothemist.OnmystreetthereisaneighbourhoodparkwhereIgowithmydogs.Raptorsnesthereinsomeveryold,verytallEucalyptustrees.

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TheSculptorBraidedhair,awideendearingsmile,Gift,thesculptor,greetsuswithoutstretchedhandsthatenvelopours,massive,muscular, toughenedbythestonehehones.WithpractisedeyeandgentletouchcaressingblocksofmottledgreenandyellowLeopardstone,with�ingerssensitivetoeveryridgeoredgehetracesformwithintheblock,discernstheshapethatwaitsrelease;showsuswherewithhand-heldtoolshe’llcarveandpareawayanexcess,leaveroughenedrock,orsandandscrubtosmoothandshinethedelicacyofaface.Hesays‘thebeautyfoundintreesandleaves,thewaysofalltheanimals,thepeoplefrommyvillagehomeareallmyinspiration.Mycallingistofreethatbeautyfortheworld,throughmystonecreations.’Gift Muchenene, a Zimbabwean, was Sculptor in Residence at KirstenboschNationalBotanicalGardensbetween2006and2011.Giftexplainedhisworkandsenseofcallingduringaretreatdayinthegardens.

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ANoteAboutRetreatsAretreatisatimeofwithdrawalfromdailylife,forrest,re�lection,prayerandlisteningtoGod.Ihavefoundthatwalkinginsilence,innature,helpsthispurpose,andbringsrefreshment,clarityandoftenhealing.At the same time there is greaterconnectionwithcreation.

ForsomeyearsIhavefacilitatedretreats .OnceIfacilitatedforthenovicesof theChristianBrothers’TrainingCentre inCapeTown.These novices are men in training for ministry as ChristianBrothers,asteachersorcommunityworkers,servingpoor,mostlyrural communities. The group includedmen from Sierra Leone,ZambiaandKenya.

Retreatsmentionedinthefollowingpoemswereheldinavarietyof venues, including The West Coast National Park and theAfromontaneforestaboveKirstenboschGardensontheslopesofTableMountain.

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VisitationInthemundaneactofmakingbreakfastforatribeofhungrynovices,Isensesomethingiswatchingme.IturnandthroughthestabledoorthatopenstothegreenandgrassycoastalplainImeettwoliquid,ambereyes.Aboveadewlapandacoatoffawntwotwistedhornsadornamassive,handsomehead.Immortalizedinancientart,rocketchingsspanningeons,thisreveredsymboloftheSan,offemalefruitfulness,prosperity,compels,andholdsmygazeAndI,motionlessandsilenced,I’mhonouredbythesuddenvisitationofthiseland,regal,monumental,standingatmydoor. San–�irstpeoplesofSouthAfrica.

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ForestRetreatInfadinglightwetreadawindingpaththatleadsintotheforest,ourfootfallsmuf�ledbythesoftcrushofleavesbelowourfeet.Darknessdropsdown,thickens,themountainlooms,adarkermasswithinthedark;treetopscloseaboveourheadsblotoutthesky’sremaininglight.Deepintheforestwheretrunksaredenselypackedandlianashanginknottedloopswepause,carefulwhereweplaceourselves.Wesinkintoasilentworldtowatchandwait.Ahalf-moonridesthe�leetingclouds,dapplestheforest�loorwithmilkylight.Allsensessharp,eyessearchshiftingshadows,watchingforunseenforestlifethatwakesupafterdark.Acoldwindstirstheleaves,

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thescentofhumusrisesfromtheground.Earsstrain,anightjarcalls.Thepaleshadowofanowl’swingdriftsthroughthetrees.Wewatchandwait.Asinglesparkoflight�lickersinthedark,thenanother;suddenlythey’reallaround,risingsilentfromtheforest�loor, inablazeand�lareofgoldandpurepulsatingenergy.Foronenightonlybrilliantwith�ireand�light,theyseekto�indamate-the�ire�lies.This night walk was part of a retreat with the novices in the forests aboveKirstenboschGardens.

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RetreatatLangebaanWewalkedoutatdawntocatchthespring-tidelow-asilentpilgrimage-aretracingofthestepsofEve,wholeftherfootprintattheedgeofthelagoon,onehundredandseventeenthousandyearsago.Therecedingtidehadleftapatternedmud-scape,sand-beigelacedwithblue,amazeoftracksandtunnels,ridges,ripples,amillionhalf-moonhollows,gleaming,watery,sun-silverandsky-blue.Wetrodwherepowderysandedgedbanksofwatergrass,avoidingqueasysuctionofmud-�latsunderfoot.Highspring-tidehadleftoldfoamdrapedonblue-greenspears,likeraggedlinen-sheetsspreadouttodry,andcastuptreasures-feathers,white-whorledshells,thefragileexoskeletonsoftinycrabs,bleachedandpaperthin.

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Thelowtidelineallowedusspacebelowsandcliffsundercutbycurrents,strangecontortedstrata,striated,pebbled,potholed,ahoneycombofhighwaysandhideawaysforcountlessmiceandnestingbirds,halfhiddenbyasprawlofcreepingplants,redstems,white�lowerheads,ascatteringofstars.Salt-marshedgedwithStrandroosstretchedbeyondthecliffs,kaleidoscopiccolour, crimson,russet,burgundy,lime,andlyinginthecentre,aharlequin–asinglerestingBontebok.Hedidnotmovebutwatcheduspass.Atourapproacha�lockofblack-cappedArcticTernsrose,aglitteringofwings,acloudthatswirledthensettledonasandbankbeyondthewater’sedge.Withhotsunhighweploddedfromthebeachupstone-cutstepstoreachthelittlewhite-washedchurchperchedhighabovethewater’sedge.Strandroos–DuneRose,Limoniumperigrinum.

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Belowawizened,windblowntreewestaredacrossthewatertodistantlow-slunghills-immersedinsilence,brokenonlybythecriesofgulls,andtherumbleofAtlanticwaves,behindthesand-bardunes.Wewatchedtheturningofthetide;asuddensurfaceripple,thescrolledlace-edgeofwaterracingin,sandislandsswallowedbytherisingtide;theboats,thatinthemorninghadlaindrunkenontheirsides,nowdriftingpeacefullyatanchor. Ourwayhomeroundthewater’sedgenowswampedwetookaninlandroute.AndaswewalkedIthoughtofEve;herpilgrimage,asearchforfoodforsustenanceofbody,ourpilgrimage,asearchforfoodforsustenanceofsoulThis contemplative walk followed the edge of the Langebaan Lagoonwhere awoman’sfootprints,perhaps theoldestknown,werefound.ShewasnicknamedEve.

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MasterTracker-DedicatedtoDawidBester(1930-2001)Venturingoutinearlylightto�indtheancientshiftingdunesIstumbledonatrackthatwoundthroughspinythickethungwithspiderwebsalldippedindew-theDawidBesterTrail-MemorialtotheWestCoastMasterTracker, wholivedanddiedamongthedunes.OnceIheardhimsay‘I’vewanderedinthisworldandsometimeslostmyway. APresencedrewmeback:AmongthesedunesIsensethatPresenceatmyside.’ Thelocalssaythatnowhisspirithauntsthedunes.Standingonasweepofsandafootfallmademeturn;buttherewasnoonethere,justthelonelywindtuggingatthetuftsofgrassspinninga�inehaircircle,theirmattedtendrilssearchingforarootingplace,ahold-fastintheshiftingsand.DawidBestergrewupandworked in theshiftingdunesofwhat today isWestCoastNationalPark,northwestofCapeTown.HewasoneofonlythreemastertrackersinSouthAfrica.

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TheFrancolinsRestingbythestreamonacloudlessautumnday,thearomaofwildrosemarymingleswiththescentsofwater,moss,dankness; thestreampools,mirroringthesky,justapulsediscerniblebetweentherocks.Softscuf�lingalertsme-afamilyoffrancolinsapproachwithcaution,headsononeside,listening;beady,blackeyes looking,unawareofme,thevoyeurinthegrass.Clamberingoverrockstheirlongnailsslipping,skiddingtothewater’sedge,theadultsplaysentinel,whilechicksdiporangebeaksandraisetheirneckstoletclear,coolliquid slipdowntheirthroats.Whenallhavehadtheir�illtheyforageamongrocksandtwistedtreeroots,uncoveringjuicymorselsandbrightyellow�lowerheads.Theadultssummon,and

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theyscrambleupthebank.Soon,theirpatternedfeathersmergewithdappledshade.Theirsoftcalls,justaudibleabovethemurmurofthestream,theonlysignthattheywerehere.But,theyleftanothertrace-theimprintofdelightonmeInPraiseofSolitudeJustmeandthewildwind,blowingwhereitwillsthebirdsforcompanythedomedskystreakedwithcloudbanksformingandun-formingmythoughtslikesailboats,driftingdownthestreamBut,bestofall,thesilence,ringinglikeabell.

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DavidBarbour

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ThemistandgreenhillsofHilton,Kwa-ZuluNatalarewhereIlivewith Anne, my wonderfully patient wife and our beloved sonHoward.Earlymorningisthefavourite partofmydayasIsitbyanopenwindowinmyfather'soldrockingchair.Itishereintheearlyshadowsofdawnthatcreationconnectswithmemost.Itisalsothebesttimetodrinkcoffee!

I write poetry as a spiritual liturgy of my life's journey, thetypeface and page housing the frail structure ofmy response tothemysteriousothernessand intimacyofcreation.However,mybestpoetryisusuallywrittenwithoutwordsinthedeep,longing,insatiablesilencethatisGod.

My thanks to A Rocha for the writers’ workshop held nearHermanusintheWesternCape.The limestonefynbos, thestarrysky,andourresponses toeachotherwith ‘resonatingsentences’will always bewoven intomy poetry. Here, in the quietness ofcreation,Ifeltbraveenoughtoallowothersintomythoughtsstillstrugglingtobeexpressedinwords. Icontinuetobegratefulforthisworkshopasitallowedtheformationofanewpoetrygroupthatstillsharpensmypen.

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DavidBarbour’sPoems1. Gone p.26

2. Worship p.27

3. TheFalls p.28

4. SilentLight p.29

5. NewBorn p.30

6. GreenSwollen p.31

7. Christmas p.32

8. Cathedral p.33

9. BeingPresent p.34

10. LastReedStanding p.35

11. MakeWay p.36

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GoneInabasinofyellowgrassbuffalo-ghostsgrazeinmalignantsunasriverslipsawayfromwherethehipposdrylikerockswhilstaboveacaciagiraffenecksshimmerinbreathlessazureoverthehilltherhinoshuf�lesonefootnearerthedongaandsadlyifyousquinteyessotightyoucanbarelyseejusttheshadow-of-lionlieslazyingunderthetreeintheAfricanmirage.IfonegazesacrosstheDrakensbergfoothills,onecanimaginewhatitmighthavebeenlikebeforethefences,cattledipsandhomesteads.donga–drygulley,formedbysoilerosion

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Worshipmychildworshipno-thingandpleasebewareofthingstoodivinesearchratherindarkshadowsoffar-offconstellationbetweentheinnerpauseofyourbreathasitliftsandfallsinthesilentstreamberapturedbythestutteredreststhatmakethebirds’songsingandtheuniversebetweenyourlivingthoughtsasyouwalkslowlyinthelongshadowsofaSundayafternoonstepprayerfullythenbetweenthecosmiclatticethathangscolossalhersilksettopegourworldsbuoyantinthenothingbreezemychildbegentlewithmystery'sedge

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TheFallsRagsquilttheridgeabovethefallsthatclothethescrubasriver'sbottle-greenchurnsthedailychoresofwomenbent,theirredknucklesrubbingrawyetbeneathcrackedsolesUmngenidrapeshersilkinwovensheetsofmistTheUmngeniRiver�lowsthroughtheKwazulu-NatalMidlands,providingthePietermaritzburgandDurbanregionwithwater.

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SilentLightCreator’sspectacularslowsilencepullstheselftoinnersanctum’suniversewhereechoedrhythmsofmymindreverb.Darkestcavernsdeepshewaitstolove -dareseachtoleaptheprecipiceonwingsoftrustintothenightofnothingness.Jumpingdead,intothesilentlightwefallintothebreathwhocalleditalltobeing,itsnight,itslight,itsseeing.ContemplativeprayerdaresusleapintothatwhichbelongstoGodandisbeyondhumanunderstanding.

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NewBornNewbornHartebeestwetongrass,birthedatdawnandupbydawn.Nowhitehospitals,bleachedgownsorsterilewashneededforhisdebut.NewbornHowardwetinhands,birthedatdawnnotupbydusk.GIFT,fourdoctors,natalICUandUVlight,allneededforhiscomingout.InthispoemGIFTreferstoaformoffertilitytreatment.

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GreenSwollenCreeds'coldfaces,namesandplaces,battleswagedinholyspaces,doggedasthemoon'snewfaces,soldiersdead-tired,lonely-keepingwatchformystictraces.Stonehewntemplesmapthewarzone,hallowedwallsashardaswhitebone,steeplesstilluponhorizon,religions'dogmas,proud-wheregentlerpathsdidroam.Time’ssuretestthesetemplesbroken,remnantscarsareoutrightspoken,Godofearthandskyiswoven,throughthesecracks,jungle-burstingstone,newroots,greenswollen.AftervisitingcrumblingtemplesintheCambodianjungleIwonderedifitmightbe wiser to worship God in the coolness of the open �ield, in sight of theswoopingswalloworlaughingwithmysteriousglow-worms.

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ChristmasMorning'sbranchscratchesthewindowascoolliquid-airtricklesgentlyintotheoceanoflungswhilstwet-warblingbirdripplessoftlythroughmeandScrubHaretwitchestonascentsoundsatshrub’sedgeallcoilsprungbyhushofgrasstheripofwingasrain-bowed-harpof�lowerstempluckedbythirstysunbeginsthesilentcarolofthisChristmasdaybeforeGod'sgiftisopen

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CathedralAcathedralofsoftwallscreationasacramenttakennowordsfromhymnalorsermontoconvinceJustthewhisperofwindthewhistleofduckthesipofswallowthesplashofspoonbillthisunpractisedchoirthatmovesthesoulHerethewillowandIdipstrawstobottomlessdepthslongingtobequenchedThismembranethinbetweenearthandheaveniswhereIammyofferingcanonlybetobreatheandproclaim.

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BeingPresentSomewhereIread,holdsomethingbeautifultoheart.SoIheldthebutter�lytomycentre,and begantracingherpatternswithseamstresscareaschiffonwingssanktostill,thedresssuitedmorefordusk-cocktailsthanatete-a-teteonsummerbeach.Sheorhe,doesitmatter?stoodwaitingasifthesunwouldpourthroughtheveinedstainedglasstodyethemonochromebelow. Thenwithholy-carehertwinnedmitreofgossamerlacebowedtoblessmesoIthought,andwhencolourto�lightwascalledherpresenceremained-aninkdropinwater-sinking,dipping,rising,sweeping,curlingbeyondtheendofmytoes.

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LastReedStandingRegardlessofherhurt,yetfromriverbedherbrokenbody,trashedandrapedfornil,willrisetocombherhair,totartherlips, bone-tired,yetwalkatnightinbawdyair. Thesulphideoozeofstreamsoncevodkaclearnowstainthelivingbeingsthatbreathethestench.Inhabitantsthatmustsurviveandstandoncornersofthemarshwithcallgirleyes.Herfainterfriendshaveleftthisplacenowslain,theirspiritsegginghertokeeptheirpride.Sotallshestandsagainsttheyellowsky,nowdrawn.Nature’swhore,dresseduptoliveordie.Aclumpofreedsinapollutedbogevokedthesefeelings.

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MakeWayDryleavesscratchinspiralsblownHotdustshrinkingeyestoleatherWailingwindsheraisescautionCallingout–MakeWayDrumbeatsfaintthependingtimbreThedogsofearthgorunningscaredHeavysoonthefeetofthunderBellowsout–MakeWayCablessparkwhilstlooselyswingingAttachingallthingsearthtoheavenThesky-lit-graphsofGodaren’thiddenCandescenttell–MakeWayHeavensinksearth’sveinsdisgorgingSpewingpungentef�luentstreamsApocryphalre�iner’sriverHailingdown–MakeWaySpectrumfanthecloudsaremendingFreshbakedroadsriseupinsteamJasminebreaththewindnowcallingRenewtheearth–MakeWay

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LaurieGaum

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I grew up in the Boland town of Wellington, studied DutchReformedtheologyatStellenbosch,andwasprivilegedtostartmyministry in 1997 in a Presbyterian church in Gugulethu outsideCapeTown.BecausemyheartisthatofanartistIseemyselfasanactivisttheologianandartist.CurrentlyIworkwiththeCentreforChristian Spirituality in Cape Town focusing on contemplativeprayer and action for social change. I write regularly fornewspapers and contribute to compilations. In 2010 I co-wrotewithmy father Frits, a book of intergenerational conversations:PraatVerbyGrense*(Umuzi).

Myworkrelatestoeverydaylife,tohumanexperienceingeneral ,and to the South African context.Mywriting is inspired by ourland and the earth. My poetry is embedded in spirituality andprayer and becomes a linking together, almost like beadwork-making or prayer beads, to help form the circle of community.This serves as an important reminder that we are all boundtogether in one earth-community, sharing all the elements that�lowthroughourbodies,andjoinedthroughourrelationships.

Oursocietyneedstoberemindedtore-entercommunionwithallcreation to renewour bondwith the earth.Myhope is thatmypoetryinthisanthologycancontributetochampionthemessageof a new environmentally conscious generation. I wish toacknowledge the encouragement of the A Rocha group of poetsand speci�ically, the enthusiastic participation of Sally Argent,AllenGoddard,EstelleKruger,AnnetteSnickersandSarieWesselsfor translations into English that were true to the Afrikaansoriginals.

*TalkBeyondBoundaries

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LaurieGaum’sPoems1. DieSkoenlapperman TheButter�lyMan p.40

3. Godtaal Godspeak p.41

4. Uitdyend Expansive p.42

6. VoelinVlug BirdinFlight p.43

7. InWater InWater p.44

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DieSkoenlappermanDieoemblikvervlietsoos‘nvlinderwatligvoetssit,danweglapper-vrygelaatomherinneringteweesvanwatkongeweeshetTheButter�lyManEyesmeetingthemoment�leetingasabutter�lysitspoised,then�luttersoff-setfreetobeamemoryofwhatmighthavebeenTranslators:SarieWesselsandAllenGoddard

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GodtaalEkontdekdiegrenseoorGodisgroot.OmtaaloorGodtekryisteontdek…omoorGodtepraatbringmy…bydiegrensevantaalenpraatwaarekeerderstilbly,waarstiltealiswatoorbly.DaaromblyeknoustilGodspeakIdiscoverthelimitsaroundGodarevast.to�indwordsaboutGodistodiscover…tospeakaboutGodbringsme…totheboundariesoflanguageandspeech,whereIratherfallsilent,wheresilenceisallthatremains.ThereforeInowkeepsilentTranslator:AllenGoddard

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UitdyendDitvloeiinmy,klotsop,geklopteskuim,ditvloeiriviere,myare,konduıete,kanale:Kabbelendekabale-‘nvloedwatpomp,meng,druppelslaatmarsjeerindieaarde,indiewereld,steekgestoktevingersdielugin,stootlotediekosmosuitditbot,dra,stuopExpansiveIt�lowsinme,lapsup,pulsedfoam,it�lowsrivers,myveins,conduits,channels:murmuringclamour-a�loodthatpumps,mixes,makesdropletsmarchintotheearth,intotheworld,stick-�ingersreachintothesky,thrustingshootsintothecosmosbudding,bearing,surgingupTranslators:SarieWessels,AllenGoddard

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VoëlinVlugKlokslagtrekdievelleoopvlerksyoop,boontoesoendielugsoendielug…BirdinFlightLikeclockworkthevellumwingsswellopen,upwardtokisstheskytokissthesky…Translator:AllenGoddard

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Inwater(naPaulSnoek)Swemisfeitlikvolledigin-balans-wees,kanskryomoorenoordieselfdebewegingtevervolmaakjyhang-sweef,lig,vloeibaar,togconnecteddink-dig-wonder. InwaterSwimmingistobevirtuallyincompletebalance,thechanceoverandovertoperfectthesamemovementyouhang-glide,light,liquid,yetconnectedthink-composeapoem-wonder. Translators:AnnetteSnickers,SarieWesselsPaulSnoekisaDutchpoet.ThispoemalludestohisEenzwemmeriseenruiter/Aswimmerisarider.

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AllenGoddard

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Writing poetry is new tome though I have lived through poeticlensesallmylife. Johannesburgwasmychildhoodsoulscapeandhome for more than thirty-�ive years. There, the secrets ofwilderness are surprisingly abundant in one of Earth's greaturbanforests,andintheseasonaltransformationsoftheHighveldsky.

Since 2001, after three formative years in Canada’s Paci�icNorthwest,myfamily andIhaveenjoyedmakingKwaZulu-Natalour home. Living so close to the mountains and the sea iswonderful,yetIamremindedalmostdailythatthereisalongwayto go before Christ brings His just peace to SouthAfrica and allcreation. So I often turn to solitude, with Scripture and pen,remembering:Inyourlightweseelight…(Ps.36:9)

Somehowwithmy Celtic name, from a part-Scottish ancestry, Ihave always experienced a strong, deep kinshipwith earth andcreatures. Ihope thatwith timespent in this anthologyyouwillalsodeepenyourdelightincreationandourCreator.

IowemorethanIcantell,inpublishingmycontributionhere, tothe delightful friendship and keen poetic sensibility of HeatherJohnston.

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AllenGoddard’sPoems1. ToadCrossing p.48

2. PholelaValleyGrass p.49

3. EveningWind p.50

4.

RecordofDecision

p.51

5.

Creation

MournstheLonminMassacre

p.52

6.

SetLikeFlint

p.54

7.

WindofBainskloof’sWitterivier

p.60

8.

Leah’sHumpback

p.62

9. Extinction p.63

10. EagleMending p.64

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ToadCrossingStrollingaHiltontrack,twilightalmostspent,Iglimpsedalandingshadowoftheyear’s�irsttoadheadingofffromwetland�lutingreedfrogs�lirtingwithnewpromisesonthewindWashefeeling�lashingsilver, rumblinginhisbellyfromsomevalley’sdistantthunderandjumpingdisappointed,thelittlepatchofleopardpastmyfeet?Hesquattedlongenoughtoletmygreetinggentleonhisthroatthendisappearedintoclosingdusksoquickasifunimpressedbythechorusonthelakeallfullofmettle,sooutofsync,andwrongabouttherain!

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PholelaValleyGrassDancingonMalutidownwinds,husksonmultitudesof�ilamentshaloedinSanisunlikesand�lakesstrung,allbow,thenvaulttothehorizonTheirsourceofmusicsilhouettesevenhidingorchids,liliesandlobeliaandkissesastersswayingboldlyblushingSani Pass crosses the Pholela Valley (pronounced with a hard ‘p’) betweenLesothoandKwaZulu-NatalintheDrakensberg-MalutiBiosphereReserve.

50

EveningWindOnmyhaunchesinheadwatergrassabovetheBloukrantzatduskmy�ingerscupfromtheNorthwesterninepetalstarlets,pricksofpollenpeeringfromwhiteTheirfragrance,bolderonthefadinglight,alertasamuskdeerdownwindmightnoseinvisibleskeinsandsensenodanger, onlyhiddentopographiesofspring’snewnectarMypalmsreleasethispotionofplacesintotheshrillofnight-newsurroundsandIhavetorisebereft,butevenatmygoingsomethingintheirgalaxylingers

51

SetLikeFlintThemountainsidebendstoaharshwinddrierthanthemistralthatblewonJonahbushesstraintoholdcloddingsoilgrassesfrayedtodustfordearthofrainItlooksasthoughtheverypeakspreparefortheirmetaphoricaltopplingintoseabuttheywillstandthroughthisbeatingandclingtowaitingforthecomingfeetI’mthankfultoEstelleKrugerforhersand-playexercisethatbroughtthispoemtomefrominitialideaandallbuttocompletion,intenminutes!

52

RecordofDecisionSinceyoungVictoriapolo�ieldshaveturfedPietermaritzburg’sDorpspruit�loodplainlikeanancientovaloftheCommonwealth,butjusttheotherdayourcityplanners’north-south‘corridorofdevelopment’rede�inedthisploverparkas‘prime’Thepolosetrandiscontentwhileinterestedaffectedpartiesbaitedcitysentimentandsurprisingly,Council’sdecision:thatplayers,horses,heritageandtheJacarandacommonswouldbeheretostayButnotlongafter, beforethedawnonedaySUVortractortrackssimplyappearedcutdeepintoacenturyofsediment

53

Sonowtheweeklymorningmarkets,meets,andnearlyallthebirdsbutegrets,umbrellas,horses,balesandhot-iceboxeshavebeenreplacedbymoundsofblackjacks,khakhibosandrottingrefuseAndmaskingtheseareconcrete,tin,andgleamingsales�loors,self-consciousredbricktoppedonlocallyindigenouslawns,landscaping,glassandmetalbillboardalleys�lashingpromisesinneonofyetmoremarketmakeovertocomeOurcityyeomenofthenowhaveploughedandscatteredonce-a-life-time�loodlineswithinvestedpensions,futures,andventure�inancesprawlinghastilybutoh!somuchlesssustainablythanwhatremains,whatweedsrememberofthe�ields.ThisandthenextpoemwerehonedthankstoGertSwart.

54

CreationMournstheLonminMassacre 16August2012I PlatinumWhiteGoldshudders,beingcrushed,wantstohideits�lashonearlobes,necksorthumbs,hateshavingtoencasethestuffofmassdestruction,theclinkingpilesofinsomniacinvestors’dreams,outsourcingofthewagesthatdemean,theliningonthesewhite-hotbulletscrazing,

55

criesoforphansswallowed,coughsassilicosisshredswhenhealth-and-�itnessisforothersjustanothercorporateperk,allthewayswhichacridtunnelsbreakaman,andcountlessdailydeathsrelivedinthedescendingcage,allthesedrillmencradledontheground:butdead,andrisingprayersofwidows

56

II RocksAscolumnistsquibbleovernumbersintheLonmintragedybecausetheirlinesofargumentwagelikeourmanywarsalreadymarchedandrun,of�icialtollsaremeaninglesstorocksthedeadweredrilling,orsandstillstainedlikehallowedgroundwhichonlyhoursagowasbrimmingwiththeirblood

57

Shouldtheresomehowhavebeennowitnessleftwithterrortoforget,thesestonesatWonderkopwouldrememberallthetrampledpromisesscatteredinthesestanding,fallenfaces,andcalltosomefuturegenerationstillcomplicit,toyearningearthandknowingheaven,thedeadandlivingrollsofnames

58

III SilenceTodaymorethanfortybrothers,fathers,sonsaregoneinricochetingsilenceshoutingforthatinstantafterhorizontalhailofgun�ireAnation,ofonlookerspausessitting,standing,muteasbroadcastnewsinnineof�iciallanguageshollowlyintonesagainstasacredstillnessparliamentsofglibcondolence,andSAFM’sMoneyWebscoutsmarketopportunityinthedropandsurgeinplatinum

59

Butwives,daughters,mothers,sonsofmourning,afamilyextendedinthisgripofquiet,spentinchokingpits,thesinkingpausebetweeneachsuddennewparoxysmofgriefEven�leeingwieldersofmachetes,trembling,ranksofmensti�ledunderhelmets,issueri�lessmokinginthequietaftermathofthunderknow-theycannotevergetawayfromwhatthislongawedsilencesays

60

Leah’sHumpbackFromtheStraitofGeorgiashebrokethewaterintoairwithonepurposeinherlastabortedbreachshebeachedtorestherselfwithdeathandnotbedrownedAmysteryallsplayedinsuchanunbecomingbeastonsilver�latsistragicallytooeveryday,toolongnotdisentanglingherthrashoftrawlinglinesherfreedomsnaggedherpowersallbutsnapped,sheliesleviathanrawwithsaltedlacerationsandstrangelysafeonwarmingground

61

EventuallyshecutsfreefrombreathitselfinavisitationmorethanallthecuriosityandcryingamongtwohundredhandsoflittleonestheearthsoquicklyfoundUnfetterednowwithnocryofderelictiondownintoPaci�icdeepsshedipsintoher�inalsoundThanks,LeahKostamo,forsharingyourYouTubeoftheHumpbackWhale.

62

WindonBainskloof’sWitterivierAruf�lingSoutheastersoonafterdawnripplesaWellingtonmountainpooltowakeblinkwhiteasiflightlaidonsuchdeepsknowsofGod’spresencegustedincirclesanddazzlingintoaquestionUnfreightedrocksalmosta�loatunderthepoolfaceliftheavinessoutofmygazesothatIcananswerthefrankness,theblusterofthisriver’syouthAndwhatdoIsay?Yes!Iamheretobetorrentroughed,tousledandcooledliketoday’s�irstsunsprinkled,toanswerGod’svoiceoverwaterasalad,halfclad,whoopsankledeepinthedaybreakallsparkled,andthen�indingbreathleaps

63

ExtinctionAlittleboyingreetingcan’thidethecuriositybehindhisisiZulureplyInjusttwosyllablesofhismother’stonguehelooks,yesdown,reduced,butstandingtallernowhetellsmestraightinminehissecondoneMysmiletheprizethathehaswon,butsomehiddengrainthatonlygerminatesinsoilsofidiomisgone

In A Rocha we take seriously the mystery of Genesis 2, that Earth’s store ofbiodiversityandthememoryofcultureineverylivinglanguage,areinseparable.

64

EagleMendingSetfreetoearlymorningfromdarknessintheholdingboxandcagedweeksofrecovery,ayoungBlackEagleblundersintobrightnessSlowful�illingwingslifthimsidewaystoananthill,buthetopplesfumblingonlowgrassesDarkfeathersbrightagainthistimetothewind,giftingpinionseager,launching,bearingstrongeyesawaytosearchtranslucentcanopiesSohethermalseasilytamingthewildnessofburnishedblue

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JohnRoff

66

Hello.Itisgoodandbeautifultobealive!

Iwrite todrawattention tothesheerbeautyandwonderof life,and the daily miracle of sharing this world with millions ofglorious living things. I am at heart an educator, somywritingoftenhasaneducatingelementtoit.

Ialsowrite inordertobringwhatIbelieveareimportantissuesto the surface, and to promote thought and discussion aroundthem.Iparticularlydesiretoencourageusalltothinkandactwithlove and care towards ourselves, each other, the whole EarthcommunityandGod.

IdopraythatGodwillusesomeofmypoemstoopentheeyesofourhearts,andhelpusmoveclosertowardsasimplegratitudeforlife,opentobeauty,wonder,joy,hop eandthetruththatisbeingspokenevennowthroughallcreation.

67

JohnRoff’sPoems1. Feather p.68

2. Deeper p.69

3. SecondLife p.70

4. CreightonCemetery p.71

5. WhileWeSleep p.72

6. AttheFence p.73

7. PartsofaWedding p.73

8. Snowstorm p.74

9. DaysAfter p.74

10. Jumpingup p.75

11. ForoneSecond,HighAbove p.75

12. TotheMiners p.76

13. InPraiseofEarthworms p.77

14. Birdwatcher p.78

68

FeatherTheyarejustordinaryfeathersfromthoseverycommonbirds;nodoubtyou’vewalkedpastplentyofsuchdebrisontheroad,tossedfromthesquallofsquawkingpanicthatisalaunchingHadeda.Somethingaboutthisonestoppedmethough,slippedlikeanofferingfromasolitarysoaringbird,itsgradualhueswerespeaking:earlymorning’sbrightsweetblue,thedarkersubtlebluesofmourning,coypinkandmutedpurplesurfacingthroughsculptedcurveandglowingline;anintricatelyiridescentpetal,turnedonitsstemandthrowinglight.The Hadeda Ibis is a common South African bird with a particularly stridentnasalcall.

69

DeeperTogettoknowheryoumustdivedeepbeneathhersilky,oiledchocolateskinandtumbletwistbetweenhersubmergedarteriesofstone,hideasgnashingmandiblesofrootedrockshredwaterintoshrillwhitefoam,thenupfromhighaboveobservetheriver�lexthequietmusclesofherpower, slowlywishthatshewouldbrushthoserippledcurvesagainstthebankofyourimagination,holdherbrimmingsubstanceinacupofwords.

70

SecondLifeInacornerofachurchyardliesahollowedgrindstone, �illedwithwaterandinscribed,inmemoryofonewhokeepsongivingbackwitheverybirdthatfrisks,thensoarsfrombathinginthatcleanfreshpool.IreceivedthisideainthegroundsoftheHiltonMethodistChurch,afterseeinganoldgrindstonethathadbeenturnedintoabirdbath.

71

CreightonCemeteryDespitetheirreverentcoarsegarglingofcrows, Ihearahopefulsilenceinthisgraveyard,wherethrivingtermitehillsgrowtallbesidethestillgreystone.Downhereisanun-namedplotonlyametrelong,eachironbarofitsshortgatelessframetippedwithapointedspear-bladethat’sbrandishedinthefaceofanygodwho’ddaretakeonesoyoung.Ah,thenmyeyepicksoutabunchofdaisiespaintedonawateringcanthat’sbalancedonashale-heapgrave,suchasmilingtributethatitmakesmesmileandblinkawaythewallofspears.Transcendingtimeandorigin,thecommonthreadsofloveandlossjoinshaleheapswitharchingstone,andeverymorninginaplannedbrightritualofhope,eachgenerousgravepointseastandgreetsthewarmandlivingsun.

72

WhileweSleepWhilewesleep,wholeworldsoflifeeruptbeneath,around,aboveourdreams.Molesnoseuptopluckdowngrubs.Batsweavehiddenpathsamonghighbranches.Owlsshapesilenceintofeatheredballsandhunchdownoverfenceposts.Cloudsof�ire�liesshredthedarkness.Andaswefoldtheevening’swashing,somewhereclose,onamoonlitplain,elephantsarequietlyfoldingbarkandleavesintotheirsoftreceptivemouths.Thispoemwaswrittenentirelyfrommyimagination–IhavehadmanyexperiencesinwildplacesinSouthernAfrica,andinmymindIsawandfelttheelephantssimplycarryingonwiththeirordinaryyetmarvellouslivesinthewildfreeplacesnorthofwhereIlive.

73

AttheFenceAlongtautgridofwovensteelkeepsmefromtouching�ieldsofwintergrass,butcannotstopthefriendlylandfromofferingupgoldhandfulsofhope:thewelcomeswayandrustleofamillionsilkenstalks.PartsofaWeddingRainwalksacrossthesunsetlikeagirlinagreywispdress.Sunbehindcloudspourslightonherpath.Theskylineissmudgedbythebrushofherfeet.Theearththrows�lyingantslikeconfetti.WrittenwithIonaRoff(age9)

74

SnowstormAspinningswarmaroundthesun,light�lakesofsnowblotouttherainandfall,inlittlelivingsilences;someland,asboldasbeesrightonmywarmandhopefultongue,somedroptoearth,sighing,stop,andblinkintothegrass.DaysAfterSnowsleekonthesoftrollingcouchofthehills,likeascatterofcatswithwhitetumstothesun,allfastasleepinnohurrytomove.

75

JumpingupAhumidnight,thehotroadpopcornsupaswellingwaveoftinyfrogsthatleapinperfectarcsbeneathanout-loudshoutofstars;suddenlyIamaware.Thispoem‘sprang’fromabriefyetpowerfulencounterwiththousandsoffrogsonacityroad.

ForOneSecond,HighAboveSweetertomethananyhumanmusic,aBateleursang-itsraucoustoad-likebarkofacallchargedwithallthehopeofwildplaces,wheredreamsstillgrow. TheBateleurisaneaglefoundinremotepartsoftheAfricanbush.

76

TotheMinersofAnthraciteontheBoundaryofiMfoloziGameReserveItisnotjustthatyouhavefouledtheruralbeautyofthehomesofgenerations.Itisnotjustthatyouhaverobbedtherestingplaceoftheancestorswhosestoriestwinedwiththeland,theplacetheylived.Itisnotjustthatyoutreadontherespectourfatherstaughtus,whoseverygravesyoucleavefromoutthestill-warmbodyoftheearth.Itisnotjustthatlandhereisdryingoutbeforeitstime,downdarkholesthatswallowthewatercycle.Itisnotjustthatathousandgrowlinglorriesburythegrasswithdust,thegrazingforthecattlegone,thosecattlewhocannoteatyourmoney.Itisthatyouhavestolentheblanketofinnocence,theunruf�ledsilenceofmillennia,thewildernessinheritance,ofeverySouthAfrican,yourselvesincluded.

77

InPraiseofEarthworms‘Ohbeautifulworm,coolinthesoftsoil,companionofroots,mixerofsoil,makerofcompost,stretching,contracting,tinyringsofmusclepropellingyouthroughtheground,pinktreasure,gold-of-the-ground,youmovemuchmorethanabulldozer,transformingbarrenearthtofertileland.’ Amillionyearsofslowcreationhasforgedthesesplendidcreaturesinthefoundryoftime;slowlyformingthedepthsofsoilonwhichwestand,alongsidelight,gold,dancinggrass.Canallthisrichnessbereducedtoadarksquirminanoldtin,limpstillnessjammedonacurvedhook,tocatchsomethingthatmakesmenfeelgoodaboutthemselvesforaday?

78

BirdwatcherDelightinginnottickingnotlistingnotnamingeverycheerfulbubblingnoteonthismostorchestratedevening.I'mwooedandsmittenbythesoftness,pattern,sizeandwholenessofathousandfeatheredbeauties,lovingthesurpriseandbusynessoftinybuzzingfeather-ballsallwhirringfromthegrass.

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Design A PrintISBN:978-0-620-65582-8