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Dad, I believe that you are resting where you are
that you are unaware of everything
as if you are only sleeping
but sometimes it feels

as if you are aware of my whole life,
then I wish that you could read my verses
as you were living for Afrikaans
and it was as if poems were in your blood

and I am wondering what you would have thought,
would have said as I am writing
every poem in English as well,
that it is the Scottish blood running true?

Sometimes when I see lightning bolts
trailing white blue down to earth,
getting the smell, almost like sulphur
where a thunderbolt falls

I am unafraid form being a child
and it’s as if I hear the voice of God
as if you are also near
like when I was a toddler

taking my hand in yours
and then I could not comprehend
that they were putting you in the cold earth,
it was if you had just left by your own will

which is a really strange thing
as you were truly in love with mom,
loved me and my younger brother
as if you would give your life for us

and when I go to your grave in the hillocks
at Heidelberg, at times I am dumb
as if an old pain
comes into my heart

and again I want to
walk into the hillocks with you
to gather protea flowers for mom
to give them to her in a glass vase

to together stand on the porch
while lightning bolt after lightning bolts
falls exploding form the sky,
to get the smell
of the first drops that are falling.

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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