It is a field of thorns,
the land of no man which lies between us:
solemn,
grieving a trust too fragile to begin with.
Must we rush across it
hand in hand?
…hoping that act would be akin
to walking over a grave
covered over with hot coals?
…surprised that faith still counts
as we knock on that grave’s door,
request answers amid a generation
submerged in loneliness?
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Copyright © 2022 Tebogo Ndlovu
There’s a conversation going around these days about the generational traumas we inherit from previous generations and pass on to our descendants. I’d say it’s an attempt to justify all the inexplicable patterns that crop up in families -regardless of … Continue reading
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In the middle of a winter so coldants no longer cross stone floorsto execute their handiwork,sleep finds the most restless minds,whispers in the tone of Luck,“…you’re not in Gehenna,wrestling with the Goliaths of your hey dayon a loop’til beyond the … Continue reading
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The Amateur's Quill 