Both picture above and poem below were originally posted by Martin Taylor in KFR!
This poem
was written by a Rhodesian friend of mine and each time I read it, the claw of sadness
tightens around my heart. I would like to share it with you because I am sure
that many of you would relate to it as I do. It's called "Homeland".
Within my soul, within my mind,
There lies a place I cannot
find.
Home of my heart. Land of my
birth.
Smoke-coloured stone and
flame-coloured earth.
Electric skies. Shivering heat.
Blood-red clay beneath my feet.
At night when finally alone,
I close my eyes - and I am home.
I kneel and touch the blood-warm
sand
And feel the pulse beneath my
hand
Of an ancient life too old to
name,
In an ancient land too wild to
tame.
How can I show you what I feel?
How can I make this essence
real?
I search for words in dumb
frustration
To try and form some
explanation,
But how can heart and soul be
caught
In one-dimensional written
thought?
If love and longing are a
"fire"
And man "consumed" by
his desire,
Then this love is no simple
flame
That mortal thought can hold or
tame.
As deep within the earth's own
core
The love of home burns evermore.
But what is home? I hear them
say,
This never was yours anyway.
You have no birthright to this
place,
Descendant from another race.
An immigrant? A pioneer?
You are no longer welcome here.
Whoever said that love made
sense?
"I love" is an
"imperfect" tense.
To love in vain has been man's
fate
From history to the present
date.
I have no grounds for
dispensation,
I know I have no home or nation.
For just one moment in the night
I am complete, my soul takes
flight.
For just one moment.... then
it's gone
and I am once again undone.
Never complete. Never whole.
White Skin and an African soul.
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