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Open Poetry #37
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Happiness and Sorrow
| Open Poetry #37 |
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Happiness and Sorrow |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa 
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HAPPINESS AND SORROW Sorry for the length of all of this. I am feeling particularly sensitive to loss at the moment as my son and daughter-in-law’s 9-year old cat had to be put down last Wednesday. I was the one who took her to the vet. Then there was Kacy’s poem about Leonard and the Lippizaners. This is a suite of 3 poems, the second and third swapped round as regards chronological order, because the first 2 poems are about the same scene. The third is a re-posting. The first poem is my happiness in my daily preparation of Flicka’s food for the following day, not aware of the imminence of the head groom’s death the next month on 13 January 2002 (nor my horse’s death on 28 April 2002 - thus 4 years ago, 8 days' ago). The “sick paddock” was in between Flicka’s feed room and the next row of stables. Although we had huge fields where many of the horses were put out during the day, the “sick paddock” was where a horse or horses were allowed to stay out for longer than their allotted time if that was what they needed – depending on what was wrong with them. If necessary they sometimes even stayed out overnight. There was a Ficus lutea (broad-leaved fig tree), one of our many species of indigenous fig trees, in the sick paddock that gave shade to the horse/s in the sick paddock. The prolific fruits were very popular with many species of birds during the day and bats at night. However, you had to be very quiet and still to see a bat at night. I was very privileged to have seen a few. The second poem is exactly the same scene, but after Gilbert’s death, and therefore I was as unhappy as I had been happy in the first poem. He was hit by a car while walking along the side of the road near his home while off duty. He had been a groom there for over 30 years and the head groom for many of those years. Everybody loved him including the horses. The third poem, written before the second, was a tribute to him, from me a horse-owner, on behalf of all who loved him. There are a few Zulu words in it which I will give translations for at the end of the poem. I have marked the Zulu words in the poem with an asterisk. PREPARING HORSE FOOD FOR TOMORROW 9 December 2001 Summer moonglow highlights the sensual convolutions of the fig tree’s trunk in the grass paddock just outside Flicka’s feed room. Rows of horses slumber their horse-rich presence in high-raftered stables on the other side of the wet-earth greenness. Majestic branches reach up and out, hung with broad leaves and tangible mellow silence. A leaf almost moves. Bat flight light dances graceful interwining arcs in soundless harmony. My nostrils delight in sweet, soft hay and a mélange of rich grain foods. Honeyed stable cat sits up against me as I handsift Flicka’s food with muted patter sounds and sensuous awe into buckets, and deep-breathe bury my face in hay and visualise Flicka’s happy munching. And in contented reverence, the universe glows. SAME SCENE, GASHED ABSENCE 16 February 2002 Preparing horse food for tomorrow and the rain-ache loneliness drenches the universe and the fig tree in the Sick Paddock down to the marrow of my bones, cadenced and sad, sad rain. High stalagmite and bubble flashes subside into widening gutter circles and drip, drip, drip sadder with each drip penetrating … Honeycat washes her face in preparation for her hugs and cuddles and my sudden voice that shocks my hearing, bright and breezy - as that is what she is waiting for. But saddest of all is the gash that won’t heal the atrocities the car did to Gilbert’s outer being and the inner beings of all he left behind. And the sky is crying with me. GILBERT KHUZWAYO, WE WILL LOOK AT THE SUN AND REMEMBER YOU 17 January 2001 Siyakala, siyakala, uGilbert wethu shonile.* We, your two wives, your children, your fellow grooms, the stable management, the committee, the horse-owners, the horses, the children who come here for riding lessons on the school ponies, their parents, riding members, non-riding members, friends of members, the people who delivered or collected, in fact, everyone you came into contact with, - whether once in your life - or every day - we cry our hearts empty and raw. Gilbert, the rivers overflow with our tears. The heavens echo with our calls to you. Our hearts are breaking. We don't understand why you had to go, but God does. He took you early because He needed another angel in Heaven and He chose you, of all indunas*, to be an induna of other angels because you were the very best induna here on earth. You taught us all. You made us smile. You made us laugh. We were always happier because of you. We were wiser because of your wisdom. You were always happy. You calmed the angry. You lifted the spirits of the sad. You warmed the hearts of the lonely. You comforted the worried. The horses were shinier, happier, healthier, better cared for because of you. We all loved you, respected you, listened to you, did as you asked, asked your advice. You were our sunshine on cloudy days, our cool breeze in the burning heat of summer, our warmth in wintry weather, our shining light, a very present help, in times of trouble. You never turned anyone away empty-handed - you always had time for everyone - if there was no time, you made the time. We are so glad that you have no more pain. No harm can touch you ever again where you carry out your further tasks for God and all humanity, the way you did here on earth for us all and for our beautiful horses, with love in your heart for all. You were too good to remain on earth. You belong in Heaven with God and the other angels. Your laughter, will live on in the wind, the hum and clatter of the tractor, the clanging of the trolleys, the loud whinnies and soft nickers of the horses, the sweeping of the brooms. It will reverberate through the stableyard, and the hearts of your wives, your children, your family, and your family here at the stables, for we were all your family. You were Our Gilbert, Our Macici.* You are still Our Macici, Our Gilbert. You will always be Our Gilbert, Our Macici. We will turn our heads or come round corners, expecting to see your smiling, happy face - and we will. It will be in the sunshine, the blue of the sky, the green of the grass and the trees, the neatness and cleanliness of the stableyard, the smiles and the greetings of the grooms, once the time for tears is over. We will ask you for the same advice, the same information, the same help, and we will feel your presence, and hear your voice in the stillness of our hearts, leading us, guiding us, helping us as you always did. We will read your answers and your messages in the sky - fluffy white common sense against ocean blue in the working day, vibrant, sensitive swirls and splashes - the colours of dreams and hopes - at the rising and the setting of the sun, and reassuring starlight and moonglow in the dark, dark night. Do you remember how you and I used to joke, - amongst so many other things, about your grey tractor-horse that you fed with petrol? Malume cries for his Gilbert too. Every single one of us has our own special memories of you, your smiles, your laughter your warmth. You were an induna par excellence. You never mis-used your position. Everyone looked up to you, looked for you, relied upon you. Your wives and children must be so very, very proud that so many, many people loved and respected you so very, very much. Now you are an induna amongst the angels, But we will always have Gilbert at the stables. Your laughter and your voice will ring everywhere. We will look for you when we hear the tractor starting. We will see you wave above its noise and carrying on with your daily tasks with excellence. We will hear you laughing and joking with the grooms and calling out to each other as you work in the harmony that is Gilbert. There will come a time that our tears will slowly dry although that seems impossible now. When that time comes we will remember you with smiles in our heart. We will forever remember your laughter, your smiles, your good nature, your friendship, your unstinting help. We will not forget you. We cannot forget you. You are a part of our lives. We will carry you here in our hearts. You will live forever in our memory. You will live in the calls of our horses. Each time they whinny or nicker, there will be a message for you, too. Your spirit will be with us always. None of us, alone, can carry the light that you carried in our lives, so we will have to help each other carry on your work of lighting up the lives of all around us. We will do that. We will do it for you and we will look at the sun - setting, rising, shining on high - and we will remember you. That is all that is left that we can do for you, now. We thank you for giving us and the stables and the horses so much of your life and your love. We are all the richer for your gift. And God, please take care of Our Gilbert, Our Macici. Make him feel at home amongst the other angels. They will love him too, we know. Nkosi siyacela ukuthi izinsuku zika Gilbert zibe nokukhanya njengoba uGilbert kade eletha ukukhanya empilweni yethu sonke ebesisebenzisana naye.* We loved you, Gilbert. We love you still. We will always love you. We mourn for you, but we don't want our tears to spoil your happiness at being an angel of God. You will want us to pick up our hearts and carry your light, I can hear you telling us not to cry, but Gilbert, grant us our time to cry. It will help us heal. We will not cry forever, Gilbert. We promise that. When we have overcome the irrepressible tears, we will stop mourning your death, and we will again be happier because of you, and we will celebrate your life instead and we will carry your light for you, together, because of you, and with you, because your spirit will be with us helping us do that. But for now siyakala, siyakala, uGilbert wethu shonile. - from Diana van den Berg and Flicka - on behalf of everyone who loves you Siyakala, siyakala, uGilbert wethu shonile – We cry, we cry, our Gilbert has passed away. (The ‘h’ in ‘wethu’ is not pronounced.) induna – a headman – he was the head groom Macici – the grooms’ nickname for him because he wore ear-rings. There is a click on each of the c’s. There are 3 clicks in Zulu. This one is created by putting your tongue behind your top front teeth and suctioning the air between your tongue and the front part of the roof of your mouth and bringing your tongue down without using your vocal chords. It produces a sort of “tsa” sound. Malume – this means Uncle. When my daughter gave birth to her first child I told the grooms that Flicka was now an uncle (as I was his mother and my children were his brother and sister). After that, my favourite grooms called Flicka by the name of Malume. The ‘e’ is pronounced as an open ‘e’ as in ‘fed’. Nkosi siyacela ukuthi / izinsuku zika Gilbert zibe nokukhanya / njengoba uGilbert kade eletha ukukhanya / empilweni yethu sonke / ebesisebenzisana naye - God please light up Gilbert’s life in Heaven because Gilbert lit up the lives of everyone who worked with him. - Owl |
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| © Copyright 2006 Diana van den Berg - All Rights Reserved | |||
Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
This has brought tears to my eyes, Diana. Thank you, very very much, for the sharing of your heartbeat. I will save this piece, and somewhere down the road...soon...I shall print a copy to gift to June, along with the one I wrote. ~sighing~ |
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The Lady Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634The Southwest |
Oh Diana. These poems are so sad and yet so very beautiful. Thank you for gracing us with them. I am tearful that your son and daughter-in-law’s cat had to be put down. What a loving person you are to perform this last act of kindness for the dear little soul. Thank you for sharing your tender thoughts with us. Kate |
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Klassy Lassy Member Elite
since 2005-06-28
Posts 2187Oregon |
Diana, there is such reverence in your poetry on this page. The sadness is there, but more than the sadness is the love and respect and celebration of life. I am intrigued with the sounds of the Zulu language as I imagine it. It have heard only a little and it is so musical with a softness that is unique. Such depth of feeling come through the words and repitition, and I am folded into the rhythms. Lovely tribute. *hug* ~ Klassy |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Thank you so very much Midnitesun, The Lady and Klassy Lassy for your extremely beautiful and heart-warming replies. Kacy, I know that June will cry all the harder when she reads When the Lippizaners Wail and these poems of mine, but she will feel all the more comforted, for knowing that other people understand and care. And yes, you understand me so well too, this IS my heartbeat. Kate, I will tell my son and daughter-in-law of your kind words. I know it will help to comfort them. You are such an understanding person. Karen, you, too, have truly understood exactly what I was trying to express. Yes, Zulu is a very musical language. In my opinion, of all the languages I know or have heard, the most musical are French and Zulu - partly because their words flow into the next - and both languages have rules that are broken in order to keep the sound of them perfect. I needed a bit of help with the long passage of Zulu (my Zulu is fairly correct and my pronunciation is regarded as good, but my vocabulary is extremely limited - although better than most whites - and my grammar is correct, but reasonably basic). The poem to Gilbert was in the form of a Zulu Praise Poem which is used a lot in Zulu. I didn't start it with that intention particularly, but that is how it turned out. Gilbert was a wonderful person and everyone was shattered by his death. - Owl |
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