in sy oë

        dit is koud vanaand in kaapstad 

die bedelaar soek 'n stuk warmte in
sy kartonbed
sy mond is hard soos
die betonmure
wat oral
om
hom
oprys
maar in sy oë
sien ek iets van sy siel skyn soos
'n perdeblom wat
deur
die krake
breek

in his eyes

        it is cold this night in cape town
the beggar hungers for a piece of warmth
in his cardboard bed
his mouth is hard like
the concrete walls
that
rises
all
around
him
but in his eyes
i see something of his soul shine out
like a dandelion
breaking
through
the cracks

 - Lara Kirsten

Step to the bridge

You step to the bridge
to say good-bye to the
Drakensberg lily in flower.

One bloom’s wilted on the cluster,
four are open to the sun,
four buds still nestling.
Their fullness I’ll likely not see,
as they’ll probably be done on my return.

I turn to go, when suddenly a body
of fragrance
circles my face, anointing
my awareness. I stop,
step down, obedient, from the planks
into the leaf-mould, soft, dark soil
and put my nose between
the white stamens dancing
in the rosy trumpet
of petals. Inhale and hear
in the odour the sweetness of a language
I’m given to compose
in this moment reaching over
between two species, lines that arc
from lily heart to human heart,
one beating, both brimming
with living relatedness.

 - Silke Heiss, 14 January 2025