and the Moon shines down on empty glades,
when the Earth no longer shakes under the migrating herds
and the trees are felled where the cheeky apes played
Will you cry for Me then?
When the ice melts and grasslands turn to sand
and the gentle humble giants no longer roam the barren lands,
when the setting Sun is pining for the lion’s mighty roar
and the sweet sad sound of the night jar’s call
Will you cry for Me then?
When flamingoes no longer grace the mirror-like pans
and no coucals joyfully herald approaching soft rains,
when no Mahogany tree lends his shade from the burning Sun
nor their pods crunch underfoot in late summertime
Will you cry for Me then?
When the lonely wind carries just a memory of a mighty eagle soaring,
and an echo of a dreamtime with soft water falling,
and the ground is soaked in blood of humans’ pointless warring,
pause then,
listen then,
can you not hear Me calling?
When there is no relief from the Long Dark Night
because you’ve blocked out the pain and blinded your sight,
you’ve turned away from the agonising screams
and traded in the Real for fake gold and cheap dreams
pause then,
weep then,
can you not feel yourself falling?
When the last rhino’s horn has been ground into dust,
and we’ve betrayed and we’ve broken the last animals’ trust
and you awaken to a grey land of emptiness and dread
don’t cry for Me then,
for I am your Heart
and I will be dead
 |
| Maputo Special Reserve |
When the ice melts and grasslands turn to sand
and the gentle humble giants no longer roam the barren lands,
when the setting Sun is pining for the lion’s mighty roar
and the sweet sad sound of the night jar’s call
Will you cry for Me then?
When flamingoes no longer grace the mirror-like pans
and no coucals joyfully herald approaching soft rains,
when no Mahogany tree lends his shade from the burning Sun
nor their pods crunch underfoot in late summertime
Will you cry for Me then?
When the lonely wind carries just a memory of a mighty eagle soaring,
and an echo of a dreamtime with soft water falling,
and the ground is soaked in blood of humans’ pointless warring,
pause then,
listen then,
can you not hear Me calling?
When there is no relief from the Long Dark Night
because you’ve blocked out the pain and blinded your sight,
you’ve turned away from the agonising screams
and traded in the Real for fake gold and cheap dreams
pause then,
weep then,
can you not feel yourself falling?
When the last rhino’s horn has been ground into dust,
and we’ve betrayed and we’ve broken the last animals’ trust
and you awaken to a grey land of emptiness and dread
don’t cry for Me then,
for I am your Heart
and I will be dead
by Christine Jordaan02 January 2016
Maputo Special Reserve
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