An ending

The man with the shaven head has given up
his hair

because he has lost, because he has lost her;

because she’s made it quite clear –
that something, for her, has changed irreversibly;

because no matter how often he can say those words to her –
say them as he did only yesterday, as he goes on saying them
even now – they cannot unsay those things that have been said;

because he can see, there is no place here to hide;
because nothing can stop
what is pushing them, has moved them apart;

because she – troubled, lovely – more lovely perhaps
than she’s ever been to him –
she is so far from him now;

because if there is a future for them – whatever it may be –
it isn’t here or now,
and each of them must try to find their way;

because perhaps even from pain, and from all
that now is lost,
someday, something may grow;

because even if it was – even if it still is – this fight
is no longer worth fighting for.

- Eduard Burle

Escher tuimel in die digtersharte

ek wil 'n gedig skryf
wat soos Escher
jou kop en lyf laat dryf
op met die trappe af
wanneer jy dink jy rym na regs
gooi hy jou radar na
links
jy dink jy het gaan visvang
en nou sit daar 'n voël in jou net
die dubbeldwarsterugspieëling van metafore
die interweef van dimensies
kruisbestuif die oorvleueling van persepsies
en soek nie om die positiewe van die negatiewe te onderskei
hulle is gesmelt in dieselfde gesig van die munt
'n gedig met geen begin of einde
'n oneindigende verdraaiing en intolling van
'n duisend digtersharte
wat jou dieper en vlakker
verder en nader bring aan die perspektief
jy bly jou inasem uitasem
terwyl jou vryheid verstrengel lê in
die labirintynse arms van hierdie vers

 - Lara Kirsten

Clement

Out of the gossamers
of sleep – those wide lands
beyond consciousness, teaching, healing –

eyes open
to a yellow room,
like a city of jewels.

Head turns. Burglar bars paint
gentle patterns on the curtains
– rows of long-nippled breasts,
kissing, feeding permission to see:
an egg, congealing
in the womb of heaven –

perhaps another clement poem
I can write down as testament
to the relationship with earth?

While the wild geese outside
concert as usual
to the day's ripeness unfolding –

the moment for a moment
is
golden.

– Silke Heiss, 21st May 2022