My hands have never held you,
They have never seen you,
Only have they created in your honour,
Touched tomorrows for you,
Yet my eyes carried you from where you died
And laid you to sleep in a land your feet have never met.
I have opened canvases in your name,
Speak to me in the language of creating,
Let my hands tell your stories.
Author of Psych Ward Blues and My Broken Azania. Poet, photographer and aspiring filmmaker.