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Singing, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

You can't run away from yourself
—Bob Marley

What she is Singing I don't know, on a street so long,
so daft, like a passage with tall walls—no one knows
what her song means, but we show no interest in it—
yet with her small voice of a child she sings the song
like a hymn. Why are you singing this? I said. She looked
at me and sang about my clothes and the look on my face
and the climate that was getting ready to crash soon,
and went on about my vehicle and the house I lived in;
when I looked up, the answer from the sky was tears
of the kind she had been singing about, and so we ran
everywhere, every woman, child and man, ran away
from the sound of her song like we were a big bang.



At the Chat Noir




This post first appeared on Poéfrika, please read the originial post: here

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Singing, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

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