gasa
snags droom ek
van gasa se huilende kinders
met rou krete deur die stof
hulle donker oë is groot en verskrik
met arms en bene bloeiend
die voete kaal verwond tussen
gruis en brokkelmuur
dáár waar eens ʼn woning was
is nou ʼn gapende ruïne
met elke greintjie koestering
brutaal versplinter
verwoed lem stootskrapers die sand
oor lywe versluier soos papies
in wit of swart plastiek – vir altyd
vlinderloos
soos verbrande brode verdwyn
die kinders in gasa en hoe kan enige
woorde troos van hiér na daar?
snags droom ek beangs van missiele
my taal tingerig en kleiner
in bomskok –
stom oor soveel
leegtes tussen straatfragmente
waar eens ʼn kind
laggend kon speel
© marlise joubert, 2023
gaza
at night I dream
of gasa’s crying children
with raw screams through the dust
their eyes dark and frightened
with arms and legs bleeding
the feet bare and wounded
between gravel and crumbling wall
there where once stood a house
now only a gaping ruin
with each grain of nurturing
brutally shattered
enraged bulldozers knifing the sand
over bodies veiled like cocoons
in white or black plastic bags
never again to butterfly
the children in gaza disappeared
like burned bread and how can
any words bring consolation
here and there?
at night I dream of anxious missiles
my tongue tiny and fragile
in shellshock
speechless due to so many
spaces between fragmented streets
where once a child
could have played
laughing
Ontroerend, Marlise!
Uitstekend! Die tragiese waarheid.