Wisdom From Elizabeth

Over the years, I’ve been called many things,
[A] Socialist, Communist, Kafkaesque Marxist,
Estranged Sufi, Worshiper of a false Prophet,

Considering how the stars have aligned,
Considering I am King Henry’s bastard child,
Considering I am Princess Diana’s unborn child,

This would be just another day in paradise…

Despite titles, how the sun sits upon the horizon,
Whether my feet love shoes, or would rather walk barefoot,

Marley sits upon a Throne, Pac to his right,
Hendrix to his left, Price rests his head on Pac’s shoulder,
Michael lays his hand on Hendrix’s guitar,

It would be a mistake to believe in fables,
Whether they fall from towers or sprout wings,

Without doubt, as I ponder over Mary’s statue,
Studying Confucianism, the Lord is with me,
Bowing five times a day,

It was not a miracle, nor a leap of faith,
In truth, it was a sunny day,
Walking along white sand (Port Elizabeth),

Everyday visiting a homeless woman,
Who slept along the coast,

She took a shower every morning in the ocean,
Changed her clothes sparingly,
Washed them in the same place she bathed,

Must have been close to 50 years old,
Carried herself with pride,
Ignoring judgmental eyes,

From the tip of her tongue,
Rolled wisdom,

One morning, as we carried on with our usual routine,
Buying coffee and breakfast rolls,
Carved into the sand a hidden message,
The landscape of Port Elizabeth,

She carried a Zulu drum,
Wore a skirt made out of nearby grass,
Used a machete to remove the top off coconuts,
Causing our coffee to be much sweeter,

What is wrong, I asked,
She replied, we will go our separate ways in a couple of days,
I worry you will seek the moon’s reflection,
Just as ocean waves do the same every night,

What is wrong with that, I asked,
She responded, ‘to seek a reflection, is similar to seeking applause’,

Two days later, I left South Africa,
Gazing out the passenger window,
Searching for my friend,
Along every visible coastline,


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