Liane Greef

Maybe I have blown away

Part I

I believe maybe I
have blown away, trailing white wisps
belonging to myself
to the blue of the sky where clouds
whisper on my warm skin
and night is a memory that keeps

Wind blows and brings us heat
I warm, thinking, holding onto
him, drift off into the
wind drifting butterflies blue black
My gaze from God’s window
falls below the sky and I gaze
You can – if you’re lucky -
sleep in the warmth and the knowing.

Part II

The vervets and baboons
see Africa from the tree tops
Cicada legs humming
I,rootless and a wanderer
When my wings are folded
Walk in the blur of the background brown

Misgivings about worth
surface. But who needs perfection?
Awaken the soaring
Do mountain climbing!  Who? says the
wind. Who? I shout louder
Say, let the energy flow strong
Through the blowing trees I
swing, strong enough to find freedom

Liane Greeff

Hot days
Summer trapped in
mustard yellow beetle,
“Ma. I can’t breathe”, plastic stuck thighs
Airless.

Airless
“Ma, I can’t breathe”, plastic stuck thighs
Mustard yellow beetle
Summer trapped in
hot days.

Liane Greeff

Night Wind Woman

The night wind blows, it calls me, I rise, follow
Out the door, out the house, out, into the wind
It calls me, I close my eyes, I see clearly
I hold up my hands

I hold up my hands, the wind takes them, caresses
I stand on the seashore, the night sea crashes
The earth answers, I dance one foot in water
one foot on the land

One foot in water, one foot on land, the wind
swirling around me, the waves spray in the wind
The stars shining through me, the sand scours clean
I wake, raw, refreshed.

Liane Greeff

Still
talking endlessly
I react badly
letting him rile me
Lighting fuses reserved for him
Nerves exploding rudely, impatiently
“Enough” I shout
“Shut up!”
Silence.

Liane Greeff

Incantation

I will speak the words unspoken,
I will seek my soul unbroken,
I will shoulder my load unbidden,
I will carry my light unhidden.

My voice will sing my soul’s song,
My voice will cry my life long,
My love will find my heart’s wings,
My God will help my soul sing.

Forgive them for they did not know,
Forgive them for their love was slow,
Forgive them for they hid my truth,
Forgive them for their fear and ruthlessness
that hurt me,
Forgive them for their lessons I learnt,
Forgive them for the child they burnt.

I will speak the words unspoken,
I will seek my soul unbroken,
I will shoulder my load unbidden,
I will carry my light unhidden.

My voice will sing my soul’s song,
My voice will cry my life long,
My love will find my heart’s wings,
My God will help my soul sing.

Liane Greeff

Bare and open roots
bring the potential from our thinking,
the thought to live differently
that comes with, or except, joy,
unleashing our delving into our own depths.
Snakes coil death fire in the darkness,
hearts squeeze around cold thinking.
 
Our thoughts walk with different thoughts,
conversations through hand in hand being,
mazes carry the observer, the light.
 
Bright round light, strikes
centre thought shines brightly.
By the roots, life and language
different, the thoughts that are thinking,
the life of the way bringing.
 
The life of the way bringing
different, the thoughts that are thinking.
By the roots, life and language.
Centre thought shines brightly,
bright round light strikes.
 
Mazes carry the observer, the light.
Conversations through hand in hand being.
Out thoughts walk with different thoughts.
 
Hearts squeeze around cold thinking.
Snakes coil death fire in the darkness.
Unleashing our delving into our own depths
that comes with, or except, joy.
The thought to live differently
brings the potential from our thinking.
Bare and open roots.
 

Liane Greef

Running Backwards 
The second halves of Now and What could have been
 

(i)
The moon shines above us all.
From the south, beating to the rhythm
of the relentless waves that pound,
the sea air carries the scent,
beating in time with her heart,
and the drums from the distant plains.
She is lucky, she thinks.
Her world, her haven.
Soft and subtle,
the music soothes her.
Today, the world is invited.
Whether or not to let the world in,
she can choose.
In her bedroom,
she likes to be alone.
 

The fynbos is intense in the distance,
the green and the golden.
The tip of Trappieskop,
the afternoon sun glows.
The door is open,
American Indian plains songs
African men singing.
Listening to the songs of the plains,
she lies on her bed.
Wafting around her room,
the smell of the sea.
 

(ii) 
Directions for tomorrow,
giving them to the clan
telling them, bringing hope,
saying what the voices say.
The others ask her what tomorrow will bring.
The possibilities,
the reweaving of today,
the memories of yesterday:
the voices in her head telling her.

Warmth of the burning logs,
the night breeze
of gentle snores.
The coolness of watching, the sounds.
Night. Watching the fire,
slightly alert, watching the darkness,
her dog bristling -
odd coyote barks in the far.
Her and the utter darkness and the
frogs in chorus in-between.
She loves the sounds of the night,
the stars of the night sky.
Still a sliver, the moon bright tonight.
The wolf dog by her side,
her family sleeping behind her.
In the doorway of the open tent
she sits on a cushion near the fire.
In smoky smells of dry logs,
the wood burning fire’s release.