Cameo of Cape Town
 
There is a tree
That grows outside my window.
Umbrella shaped,
On one side, cool shadow;
On the other, the sun.
People can choose,
Protection or fun.
 
An evergreen tree
On evergreen grass,
An azure sea
And cloudless sky;
An idyllic stage set.
Each scene a cameo of Cape Town.
 
A lone minstrel in the shade,
His once bright jacket
Has begun to fade,
Dolefully playing happy tunes
He hopes the tourists will enjoy.
His plaintive notes revealing
That in his world
These songs have no meaning.
 
The picnickers dance
And eat small banquets,
Long, flowing dresses
Caressing  the grass.
They smile as  their toddlers
Take first steps.
 
The homeless man,
Clothes and hopes in tatters,
Rummages through the bin;
But he is late,
There were others before him.
So, he lies in the soft grass
To sleep but not to dream.
His hunger has stolen his dreams.
 
A peloton of cyclists
Rush by on expensive bikes,
Checking their heart rates and speeds.
They do not even see
The ever changing sea,
The ever changing scene.
 
A cameo of Cape Town -
A stage set for dreams.
Dreams come true,
Dreams being made,
Dreams in tatters -
In the shadow of the tree.
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I find myself waiting.
Waiting,
I'm not sure what for;
I look to the door
There's no-one;
I watch the sun
Until each day is done.
 
Worried about going;
Worried about staying.
Worried and confused.
I keep checking the news;
Even the news is confused.
 
We are all waiting.
Waiting to hear
When once again
Our loved ones
Can be near.
 
We long to hug
And hold them.
To laugh and dance
With them.
We long to be near
Without this 
Overwhelming fear.
 
And so we're waiting;
Worrying and waiting.
Waiting for a vaccine;
Waiting for when
That loving embrace
Is no longer a dream.
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​To Truly Live

​I don’t know how long I am to be on this earth.
So I’m spending my time
Trying to learn
To truly live.
To enjoy every moment
As if it’s my first;
And value it
As if it’s my last.
 
I keep those I love
Close to my heart.
They make my life glow.
And I try to remember
To tell them so.
 
I try to remember
Not to hold grudges,
To let anger pass.
Unresolved anger
Must not be
The feeling I take as my last.
 
Life makes no promises;
Does not share her plans.
Every day is a gift
And a challenge.
How I thrive
Is in my hands.
 
Every memory I make
While I am strong,
Gives me strength
To carry on
In those times
When I am weak.
 
And if I grow old
And too weak
To struggle on,
I can wrap myself
In my memories
Of the days
When my sun shone.
BY: Sharon Heaney Stansfield 
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THE COVID RIVER
 
Man was at war with the world;
Suffocating her skies,
Strangling her seas in his plastic;
Shredding her forest womb,
As he gouged deep into her bowels.
 
The COVID River
Roared onto the scene.
Ripping through hallowed edifices.
Man’s constructs
To his own greatness.
 
Self-proclaimed
The cleverest animal,
Out-breeding all others;
He bulldozed their homes
To make way for more of his own.
 
The twinkling man-made stars
Bringing light to the night
Belied the damage that he wrought.
And the Universe thought
It time,
Time to enter the fight.
 
So the COVID River came.
A fearsome river
Of tiny molecules
Of death.
Unstoppable
By force and power.
Stoppable
By co-operation.
 
Working together
To stay apart,
To stay alive.
 
The Grim Reaper rode along,
An avaricious grin
Sneaking across his lifeless face,
Watching man’s denial
In the face of this river of doom,
Who chose her best weapon,
Man’s own flaw.
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METAMORPHOSIS
​He left his home
Where the oppressor's boot
Was always kicking down his door.

He left his home
To fight for freedom;
To free his brothers and his land.

And his heart and limbs
Were strong and lean
And righteous.

He fought hard
And he fought long.
He fought for his brothers
And for his land.
And his righteousness won.

He cast the oppressor aside;
And his brothers sang with glee.
With thanks and praise,
They lifted him high;
And the sun shone bright
On all their faces.

He became a politician;
To lead his brothers
In this free land.

And his head and his belly
And his bank balance grew fat.
And his brothers whimpered
And buckled
In the dark shadow
Under his weight.
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​Bare feet or gum boots,
Warm weather or cold.
The river flowed through the reeds,
Over rocks
And around rubbish dumps.
 
Willow trees grew tall and strong,
Dipping soft branches in the water
Our feet could not enter;
For bilharzia ruled those waterways.
 
Willow branches and reeds
Woven into huts for clubhouses;
Crowns for our aspirations
And camouflage for hiding in plain sight.
Could a child ask for more?
 
A  windmill,
Churning dreams 
That reached the clouds.
In those strong willow branches,
A clubhouse
In the sky.
 
New babies,
New pram wheels
For the next coach
On our soapbox train.
Going nowhere,
Going everywhere,
Going fast;
The whole team,
Together.
 
Together, we learnt and laughed and cried.
Together, until one had to leave, to die,
To go to stay in our treehouse in the sky.
 
But while our feet keep walking
And our river keeps flowing,
His memory lives on,
Long and strong;
Woven with those willow branches
And muddy boots.
Running along the river of time.
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Play Me a Happy Tune
(A Lament During Covid19)
 
Play me a happy tune,
With the quick, light notes of laughter;
For the notes of sadness
That fill the air are long
And deep
And hold my heart heavy
Like the soil on a grave.
 
There is no solace
In lonely tears.
We yearn
To hold tight and hug,
Share our pain,
Our loss of what we had;
What we thought was ours
Forever.
 
The world is sad
And angry.
An invader quick and cruel
Ripped into our heart.
Too small for our guns and bombs;
Cutting through our bodies,
Mauling our souls.
 
To win the fight,
We must unite;
Yet stand apart.
Scared and confused,
We turn the fight
Against each other.
 
Now the air is a heavy shroud
Of anger and sorrow.
The music of laughter is gone
And our souls trudge weary.
 
So, play me a happy tune.
Let my soul sing
And my feet dance once again
To the merry music
Of your laughter.
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He left his room
And walked to the top of the stairs;
Facing the sea and infinite sky.
Then he sat
Bent over,
Broken.

Was it the fear of a deadly virus,
Killing millions?
Crippling economies?
Was that his unbearable burden?

No.
His family were hungry.
He could not feed them.
Promises of assistance warped
Into political tools.

He was not allowed
To earn his family’s food.
Others were not allowed
To give him food.

Only the government could do that.
Government of the people;
But not for the people.
​A system broken.

And so he sat
And faced the interminable sea;
And the sun set
Into darkness.
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I know how the  caged lion feels.
In her clean cage
With fresh straw, juicy meat,
And gentle, caring zoo-keeper;
I know how the caged lion feels.
 
She has but one stress;
One all-consuming drive
From every cell inside her.
She needs to get out.
She needs to get away
From her cage.
 
Her muscles ache
To stretch and run;
She yearns to see the bush
And wide open places again.
 
But she must languish in her cage;
Well fed, well tended and safe.
Safe from the wild and the unknown;
But not safe from the pull of her soul.
 
She was caged and man was free;
But nature struck
And now we too know.
We know how the caged lion feels.
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Far across the ocean
There’s a tiny face;
A little nodding head,
Eyes too young to focus,
Looking at Mum.

A tiny face,
Smaller than my hand,
Skin still bigger than needed;
Lots of room for growth.
Intense attention
In his tiny wrinkled forehead
As he turns his face up
To look at his Mum.

Across the ocean
And far away
Like a dream I see him.
And the earth cracks open beneath me;
The ocean parts the waves
And my heart explodes.
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