Aftermath

Here is what I shall say if you pine for an aftermath:

wash your hands here in this bloodbath

to see if there's a lump in it beating, as long

as you know no known heart dies without intent,

long as you know which ones rattle like a beast’s

while others just walk by, walk along earth

attempting to live without life, alive yet not in love.

Do the math, brother, sister, to calculate the odds,

and forget no one, not even the tenant of hell.

These are just geometrics; to you I therefore say

go back, and bask at last in the sun of your glory.

Rehearse living, breathing, laughter, practise them

till you discover the position that is yourself,

that makes many-a-man extend a hand to touch you,

a position descended from your parent’s agony,

from how they gave you room for improvement

and focused you. It is one tiny bit of how

you now can become a partner of the world.

—Rethabile Masilo (Letter to country)