Samantha Marais

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Gabrielino's Original Tale

I know not if the voice of man can reach the sky;

I know not if the mighty one will hear as I pray;

I know not if the gifts I ask will all granted be;

I know not if the world of old we truly can hear;

I know not what will come to pass in future days;

I hope that only good will come, my children, to you.

I think over again my small adventures, my fears. These small ones that seemed so big. For all the vital things I had to get and to reach. And yet there is only one great thing, the only thing. To live to see the great day that dawns. And the light that fills the world.-- Inuit Song

The San of the sand

Bushmen have much desert in them;
from birth they hold a manifesto
in their head, a tribal oath, an old
undying truth that we’ve always been
told about, how they honoured the
first-born sun.

The hills hold caverns grandpa Seth
once walked me up to see, to trace
the curved walls with my eye.
He said his dad once made a bushman
jump with a spoken Lumela! from behind,
time when these grottoes lived with
people.

I really want to go to the Kalahari
where children still romp the sand, where
like photons moons move across heaven
meeting shadows halfway, seeking the day.

That image of you, Africa, when to sundown
you settle down beside a fire, is my
rusting photo, the ghost of a song coming
from deep you and bidding jive along.