To a stranger in a faraway land
To an Ivory Carver
Stranger,
far
far away
please
hear my words
from a quiet forest in Africa
Close your eyes
run your fingers over the cool smoothness
of the ivory before you
feel the presence of a gentle nobility next to you
let it touch your spirit
open your heart to it
This presence was once living
breathing
a beloved stitch of the tapestry of trees and waterholes
He walked mile upon mile
through burning plains
cool forests
in sunshine
in rain
He too felt Hunger
as you do
He too felt thirst
as you do
He too mourned His dead
as you do
Lift your face to the African sun
feel it warm you
as He did
hear the scolding churr of the Oxpecker
as He did
taste the river water
as He did
smell the dry Savannah
as He did
feel the freedom
of the cool Night
from the heat of the sun
as He did
Now open your eyes
and see what is left of the magnificence of Him
lying before you
What your industry has reduced him to…
He deserved to die
in His time
in peace
with His world
but you far away
had ordered his death
Can you not you feel the pain and despair seeping out of these tusks
that He once dug for roots with
in the red earth of Africa
Can’t you sense the brutal bloodshed that has traveled with Him
the horror and anger of Mother Africa
even though your fingers would carve beauty
you are moulding Death
and Death and bloodshed hang over you
Death greets you at the door when you enter your workplace
Death sits with you and watches over your shoulder as you work with His ivory
Death is embedded in your day and your evenings are shadowed by it
Death drips agony in your dreaming
pursuing you
It can be no other way
because He did not die in peace with His world
He died for you to carve
and His spirit has stayed trapped
with His tusks
When you sell your work
you are selling Death
His spirit, his traumatized Spirit,
will stay with His ivory
Each time you unpack a new crate of tusks
you are unpacking more Death and blood
agony and anger
and a curse and the sadness of Mother Africa
enters your aura
and taints your life with it
your family’s
your childrens
I know this
because I sit here in the forest
and I hear the trees whisper of Her pain
the birds are silent
each time a noble elephant falls
in agony
while the butchers that you have summoned
do your work
hacking off their tusks while they are still alive
the forest cries
Mother Earth mourns
and I,
as a Woman of Africa
I curse you
I curse you
by the four elements
of Earth, Fire, Water and Air
I curse you
by strong stone
turning orange in the sunset
which you robbed Him of
I curse you
by bone
His precious
bones
picked clean by vultures and left whitening
a silent witness to the butchery you ordered
I ask the spirits of four elephants to live with you
to remind you day after day
and in the dread hours of night
of the suffering you are causing
I curse your living
and I curse your death
the Earth will not open to receive you
you will not rest in peace
because your livelihood
is causing Death
to my loved ones
and I cannot allow this
to His tragedy
to Her sadness
I add my curse
a black pool swirling over you,
around you,
inside you
Lay down your tools
close the door
cease to trade in Death
or live this lifetime
and all your lifetimes
holding
hands with Death
and anger
sadness
and butchery
your Spirit will exist in agony
Burn the ivory
set their trapped spirits free
to return to the Dreamtime of Mother Africa
All this rage and helpless despair welling up in my heart
the grief
these humble hearts
grieving with hundreds of thousands around the world
and bleeding anew each day
I lay on your shoulders
Christine Jordaan, 2013© 2017
To an Ivory Carver
Stranger,
far
far away
please
hear my words
from a quiet forest in Africa
Close your eyes
run your fingers over the cool smoothness
of the ivory before you
feel the presence of a gentle nobility next to you
let it touch your spirit
open your heart to it
This presence was once living
breathing
a beloved stitch of the tapestry of trees and waterholes
He walked mile upon mile
through burning plains
cool forests
in sunshine
in rain
He too felt Hunger
as you do
He too felt thirst
as you do
He too mourned His dead
as you do
Lift your face to the African sun
feel it warm you
as He did
hear the scolding churr of the Oxpecker
as He did
taste the river water
as He did
smell the dry Savannah
as He did
feel the freedom
of the cool Night
from the heat of the sun
as He did
Now open your eyes
and see what is left of the magnificence of Him
lying before you
What your industry has reduced him to…
He deserved to die
in His time
in peace
with His world
but you far away
had ordered his death
Can you not you feel the pain and despair seeping out of these tusks
that He once dug for roots with
in the red earth of Africa
Can’t you sense the brutal bloodshed that has traveled with Him
the horror and anger of Mother Africa
even though your fingers would carve beauty
you are moulding Death
and Death and bloodshed hang over you
Death greets you at the door when you enter your workplace
Death sits with you and watches over your shoulder as you work with His ivory
Death is embedded in your day and your evenings are shadowed by it
Death drips agony in your dreaming
pursuing you
It can be no other way
because He did not die in peace with His world
He died for you to carve
and His spirit has stayed trapped
with His tusks
When you sell your work
you are selling Death
His spirit, his traumatized Spirit,
will stay with His ivory
Each time you unpack a new crate of tusks
you are unpacking more Death and blood
agony and anger
and a curse and the sadness of Mother Africa
enters your aura
and taints your life with it
your family’s
your childrens
I know this
because I sit here in the forest
and I hear the trees whisper of Her pain
the birds are silent
each time a noble elephant falls
in agony
while the butchers that you have summoned
do your work
hacking off their tusks while they are still alive
the forest cries
Mother Earth mourns
and I,
as a Woman of Africa
I curse you
I curse you
by the four elements
of Earth, Fire, Water and Air
I curse you
by strong stone
turning orange in the sunset
which you robbed Him of
I curse you
by bone
His precious
bones
picked clean by vultures and left whitening
a silent witness to the butchery you ordered
I ask the spirits of four elephants to live with you
to remind you day after day
and in the dread hours of night
of the suffering you are causing
I curse your living
and I curse your death
the Earth will not open to receive you
you will not rest in peace
because your livelihood
is causing Death
to my loved ones
and I cannot allow this
to His tragedy
to Her sadness
I add my curse
a black pool swirling over you,
around you,
inside you
Lay down your tools
close the door
cease to trade in Death
or live this lifetime
and all your lifetimes
holding
hands with Death
and anger
sadness
and butchery
your Spirit will exist in agony
Burn the ivory
set their trapped spirits free
to return to the Dreamtime of Mother Africa
All this rage and helpless despair welling up in my heart
the grief
these humble hearts
grieving with hundreds of thousands around the world
and bleeding anew each day
I lay on your shoulders
Stranger,
far
far away
please
hear my words
from a quiet forest in Africa
Close your eyes
run your fingers over the cool smoothness
of the ivory before you
feel the presence of a gentle nobility next to you
let it touch your spirit
open your heart to it
This presence was once living
breathing
a beloved stitch of the tapestry of trees and waterholes
He walked mile upon mile
through burning plains
cool forests
in sunshine
in rain
He too felt Hunger
as you do
He too felt thirst
as you do
He too mourned His dead
as you do
Lift your face to the African sun
feel it warm you
as He did
hear the scolding churr of the Oxpecker
as He did
taste the river water
as He did
smell the dry Savannah
as He did
feel the freedom
of the cool Night
from the heat of the sun
as He did
Now open your eyes
and see what is left of the magnificence of Him
lying before you
What your industry has reduced him to…
He deserved to die
in His time
in peace
with His world
but you far away
had ordered his death
Can you not you feel the pain and despair seeping out of these tusks
that He once dug for roots with
in the red earth of Africa
Can’t you sense the brutal bloodshed that has traveled with Him
the horror and anger of Mother Africa
even though your fingers would carve beauty
you are moulding Death
and Death and bloodshed hang over you
Death greets you at the door when you enter your workplace
Death sits with you and watches over your shoulder as you work with His ivory
Death is embedded in your day and your evenings are shadowed by it
Death drips agony in your dreaming
pursuing you
It can be no other way
because He did not die in peace with His world
He died for you to carve
and His spirit has stayed trapped
with His tusks
When you sell your work
you are selling Death
His spirit, his traumatized Spirit,
will stay with His ivory
Each time you unpack a new crate of tusks
you are unpacking more Death and blood
agony and anger
and a curse and the sadness of Mother Africa
enters your aura
and taints your life with it
your family’s
your childrens
I know this
because I sit here in the forest
and I hear the trees whisper of Her pain
the birds are silent
each time a noble elephant falls
in agony
while the butchers that you have summoned
do your work
hacking off their tusks while they are still alive
the forest cries
Mother Earth mourns
and I,
as a Woman of Africa
I curse you
I curse you
by the four elements
of Earth, Fire, Water and Air
I curse you
by strong stone
turning orange in the sunset
which you robbed Him of
I curse you
by bone
His precious
bones
picked clean by vultures and left whitening
a silent witness to the butchery you ordered
I ask the spirits of four elephants to live with you
to remind you day after day
and in the dread hours of night
of the suffering you are causing
I curse your living
and I curse your death
the Earth will not open to receive you
you will not rest in peace
because your livelihood
is causing Death
to my loved ones
and I cannot allow this
to His tragedy
to Her sadness
I add my curse
a black pool swirling over you,
around you,
inside you
Lay down your tools
close the door
cease to trade in Death
or live this lifetime
and all your lifetimes
holding
hands with Death
and anger
sadness
and butchery
your Spirit will exist in agony
Burn the ivory
set their trapped spirits free
to return to the Dreamtime of Mother Africa
All this rage and helpless despair welling up in my heart
the grief
these humble hearts
grieving with hundreds of thousands around the world
and bleeding anew each day
I lay on your shoulders
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