A little sparrow has been seen
Conversing with itself.
Can it wonder where it has been,
Can it contemplate the self?
Does it see, in the glasses sheen
This thing we all call life?
When in their eyes, a sight serene
Makes me question our lack of attention.
A tentative creative that hopes to hail as a
published poet in the days to come. South
African from the uterus to our current date.
Durban will always be my first hat rack upon
which I rest my heart
A lower-middle class working class hero,
working the salt mine, suckling the teat of the
Who we are is in constant flux, but she likes
to consider herself lamentably human.
Seeing the woeful destruction of her home on
this glorious earth has driven this particular
poet to attempt to bridge the gap, and
connect the minds of others to our shaking
grounds of reality