Wednesday, 9 October 2013

For all the fallen gentle giants

Qumquat,
 you will not come down to drink today
   nor tomorrow
       nor any day
  the birds are missing your gentle presence
       in the cool forest glades
          at the heat of midday

You are now a memory
  a dream of the trees and savannah
    an echo of a song the wind whispered to the sun
        of a picture She painted when the world was born
Your well-worn trails lead now
   to sad empty spaces
     down at the river at dawn

Qumquat and all the Fallen
     we mourn you
you were gentle and humble
    asking nothing
        except to live
free as is your birthright
   we mourn you

You are gone
     cruelly murdered in greed
tusks sawn from you
     lives torn from you
left in the dust
    in agony
        to bleed

Qumquat,
you will not raise your trunk to the sky again
   to smell for the cool summer rains
or lead your trusting family safely
through the golden-green plains
your noble silhouette is missing
against the setting African sun      
     the full Moon shines down for you
but you are gone
     you are gone

Qumquat,
   we honour your spirit as a pure chord
sung in a Divine chorus of birdsong
as a brilliant green ray on the rainbow
      after the storm
the light of the world is now muted
   even the stars look dimmer and forlorn

We are the richer for you having been amongst us
and the poorer for your passing

And if at all you watch over us
   from a place much kinder to you and yours
       please forgive us
and in these darkening days
     send the angels down to light the way     
        Home.

Qumquat and all the Fallen
     we mourn you
you were gentle and humble
    asking nothing
        except to live
free as is your birthright
   we mourn you

© 2017


 Christine Jordaan, 2013

No comments:

Post a Comment