we call all the fires of africa together

below this ocean sky thrilling surf, gulls,

wind, and your breath and my breath

(i want what sounds of you, again,

and to share this, it is yours too)

madiba, i never had the chance to ask

where you buy your shirts

i admired them so.

(your widow is so sad

that makes me saddest)

you are the melody of doves in the sunday trees

before church, mornings when we knelt by our beds

and prayed. i, too wary not to and the rest, righteous and sure.

we sat in sturdy pews, virgin whites , imagining our own deaths,

our eyes unsinkable in tears, and before lunch we floated back,

rivers of  milk, hearts aglow, eyes ablaze, hats aflow,

girls of gold and silver

we may have met that time; robben island as

mythical as the small boat for rough seas,

the large boat for calm oceans,

(it made no sense to me at all)

the sun mostly kissing shoulders

as i sat on that deck, nose filled

with bamboo, fish, brine, waves, wind,

the odd dentist,

i, in love with your prison isle

and that sky. we shared the blue

table mountain view,

mine from it, yours to it,

twice a week

heavens square and limitless blue, mine.

small blue squares limited view, yours.

years later those perfectly painted

light white boxes, ice cubed

in large trays, the trip on the boat

felt fake then, the buildings too

for i remembered too well the vacation feel

eons ago, for me, this side and

for you, that side of the barbed wire

unaware and untainted, we moved,

some barely touched by sharpeville.   

we did not know your heart then and your

evertolerantyourtolerance

yourbenevolenceyourliberty

that the death of you is

the celebration of you

i recognize now the release that you had

borne in a heart without bars without

the colour of your skin without

the colour of my skin, your redemption

blooming in our lives like sunflowers

with a mind peppermint and sun,

open, free and you turning it into an

uncommisioned gift that

you paid forward, like your royalty

like your loyalty

madiba, i never had the chance to ask

where you buy your shirts

i loved seeing them on you.

(your widow is so sad

that makes me saddest)

ever together, you were still a part,

that set me free,

heart mirrored free heart

one grassland one savannah

the regift of unshackled surplus issue

and love to match

each our own

the same together

your widow is so sad

while your great grandchildren play

seasofme171213yebo