Hoe lank al kap-kap
my beiteltong sy wees? Hap ek stukkies vlees met bitsige skalpel. Soos Michelangelo uit marmer, sal ek ‘n Dawid uit hom skep. “Laat staan, My kind,” vermaan Hy sag. “Weet jy dan nie Ek het hom gesmee?” Skaam lê ek my beitel neer nederig op my knieë, siel naak, sien ek ‘n man van God ontwaak. Amanda Smith 6/12/2011
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Afrikaansis my mother tongue. It is my heart-language. And when I first returned to writing, I wrote mostly about the things of my heart, in the language of my heart. Some poems have been translated to English and can be found here. ArchivesCategories |