The Western Cape was hit by a crippling drought. The level of the main storage dam, Theewaterskloof dropped to 25% and vast tracts of it were just dust and loose sand instead of water. I had this poem rattling around in my head and it just demanded to be written.
Dust bowl dam. Sun light glitters, stark on pale
Bone white surfaces, black stark tree skeletons,
Dry shod, heat struck, sand blasted we cross
The sparkling dam that once was and is no more
Oven heat scrapes roughly across our exposed skin
Slitted eyes blink against the wind hurled dust
No breath to spare for the pointless vital question
What have we done? What have we left our children.
I have been writing poetry for ages and you can see some of my poetry on my poetry page, but I also publish on Deep Underground Poetry site.
This one is not published anywhere so here goes
The air gently rises, I’m called, I’m called
“Spread now your wings, fly free, into the sky”
My wings impatient to ride the wind soaring
Softly call me to take the rising thermals
I spring away and fall before my wings
Gracefully open wide and strong
And bear my weight and break my fall
ends soft and soon begins my turn
Spiral, around, around, rising on water
Driven air, rising from plunging water
Gravity fueled, spring driven, seaward bound
It powers me up on wide spread wings.
I climb up, toward toward vast blue sky
Curving around the rising column
I’m grace, perfection, control, ease and
And above all master of the air
The ground recedes, the dry earth
Expands, stretches, and soon I high
Way above I fly, because I can
Not because I must and I am
Lord of all I survey.