Lost Voices

Lost Voices

Who will keep the Knowledge

when the hunters fade into legends and paintings on the rock face?

With no voices to name the eland or call the rain

how will the Ancestors sing the Songlines?

Their wisdom is lost

to the now scattered Children of the grasslands

who huddle caged in the cities

dead to the dreaming of the dry desert dunes

creeping ever closer

they cannot hear the west wind whispering to itself

amongst the scattered bones of the Wild ones

who had nowhere to run

from the relentless drought

 

Souls are split from the Sacred

that they once wandered hand in hand with

through the vast open spaces with their herds

 

The old ways are dying

as the waters are drying

and the ancient forests cleared

no fist strikes the drum to negotiate with the Thunder God

no offerings float on the now still river

long empty of fish

the Children are gone

the Ancestors are silent

the wind has wandered on

 

What are you doing while the Earth is dying?

while the Great Apes are trafficked to languish in foreign concrete tombs

and the Lions’ bones ground into dust

spirits long since crushed

from their betrayal by us

 

Have you blocked out the screaming and slaughter

echoing in the skies

from a thousand anguished cries

for mercy that will never be answered?

 

And God – where are you in this carnage and despair

have you given up on us or are you still there

waiting for us to come home?

Please send an Angel - I’m so utterly, utterly tired

on this endless dark road

alone.

 

-          Christine Jordaan, 18 December 2024