Brood en Vuur

Soos ‘n rots,
staan jy
met jou brood
in die een hand
en jou vuur
in die ander.

Die ewige gekners
van stomp tande
kom tot ‘n einde
wanneer jy jou
eie swaard
laat val
en Myne opneem.

Vergeet. 
Vergeet van die ou dinge
want dit trek jou oë
van my spore af.

Onthou. 
Onthou wie jy was
voor tyd
jou kom skommel het.

My swaard brand
met ‘n wit vuur
en dit sny
deur jou rotse
om murg en been
te skei.
So staan vas
In My
terwyl ek
wat oud is
sloop
en wat heilig is
na vore bring.

Leer My ken
vir wie Ek is
en nie vir die beeld
wat jy van My
gemaak het nie.

Potter Plantjie

Potter plantjie
groei jou rankie 
lekker teen die ruit.

Potter plantjie
sê nee dankie
en hou aan wys besluit.

Die swyn en teef
sal jou (dalk) vreet
as jy Ons broodjies deel.

Die swyn en teef
kan geloof verskeur
en jou heil verrinneweer.

So,

Potter plantjie
vat jou mandjie
en deel met wie My wil begeer.

~ Mattheus 7:6 ~

Waarna Staar Jy

“Waarna staar jy?”
vra Seuna vroom. 
“Na die realiteite, 
die vaandels,
en die feite. ” 
antwoord Hy stadig
– die Eeu Oue Boom. 

“Maar… is dit…
waarheid?” 
vra Seuna,
diep geïnteresseer. 
“Bo-na-tuur-lik nie, 
My lief kind -” 
dreun die Wind
Sy hart se longe uit – 
“Dit is maar net
klinkende metale, 
luidende simbale.

Want jy weet, 
die ware liefde
raak nie bitter nie
reken nie kwaad toe nie
bedek… alles
glo… alles
hoop… alles
verdra… alles.” 

Seuna vra toe, 
effe ingetoë:
“Pappa, waarom blyk
Jou lyf, Jou liggaam
só seer geboor?”
En Hy antwoord,
met ‘n getraande oog
“Want My kinders
kyk, en handel met
mekaar, deur
hulle eie oë.”

Suutjies Bid

Handjies toegevou
Sit sustertjie
Toe oog
In die koor.

Suutjies bid sy
Sodat haar pappa
Haar sagte stemmetjie
Sal kan hoor

– Want die dreun
Van albasterstem Le Roux
Het al telbare kere
Haar stem versmoor.

“Jirre asseblief
Ek smeek U
Al heel aand
Oor en oor!”

En toe sy
Haar asempie snik
Toe’s die lied verby
En klap die gehoor.

The Chamber – Part 3

<Continued from Part 2>

My eyelids continuously slammed shut – my eyes could not tolerate the overwhelming light for too long. I was grateful that my two polished bronze shields could brace the light’s mighty impact. It gave my eyes the merciful opportunity to cower within my skull, as though they were two scared guards. Their backs pressed hard against the wall of my mind and caused me to churn nervous thoughts, which quickly spread and infected the rest of my now shivering body. But an unknown force breathed marrow into them – and with the crack of a whip they rushed to open the bronze windows and braved the bleached world outside.

I stared in a throbbing stupor as He kneeled down and thoroughly washed my feet with a warm white cloth. His actions cranked open my eyes’ tiny, shiny waterfalls, and caused me to groan with deep, shame filled weeps.

He gently tended my gaping wounds, and slowly fed me something wholesome to eat. Then, with the grace and power of the most righteous king, He whispered life into me – oh a word in a poem so sweet. However, just when I started to taste the honey bursting from the new heart within me, he unexpectedly sliced off a strange piece of meat:
“My son it is time now to start believing, faith will provide the strength to your feet.”

And with that, the room emptied – but somehow I knew it did not just contain the dirt and crumbs that I used to call me. Enlightened, and with the dastardly vigour of a mountain, I slowly got up from my seat. I was still groggy, and blind, but there was one thing I could see. It was a chest, made from black locks, brown locks and brass locks – but no key.

I sluggishly stewed my rags over to it, and found that one was pleasantly unlocked. Within it, it was written “He is the solid rock”, and woven straight through it was a thin metal wire, which sheepishly ran amok. It went into others – with all of them being rudely, stubbornly, tightly locked. But I noticed, the one in my hand, it turned into a key. I tugged its wire gently, which then rang loudly and turned into luminated gold.

I saw the other lock it wound into! I then inserted and twisted my newly shaped key, which caused it to quickly pop open with a tinkle and a tweet. On its shackle was written “as the staff hit the rock”, and on its case “the water burst forth”. But as this one’s wire dug deeper, its twinkling tone of gold got lost. It seemed like this chest would take forever to open, but I had time and hunger, for now it surely took no real cost. So, I blissfully sucked in dry air and continued my perusal forth. 


Sadly, time ticked on and on.

It took me days, nay, it took weeks. I studied it, dragged it, hammered it, but no other lock would slip free. I could not force it. I could not break it. The only thing that changed was the stomach-turning fire and ice that accumulated within me. Doubt crept in, and hate, and fear. It all became hazy, why would it all not just disappear? I knew it for sure, I knew nothing.

I sat in the corner, I gave up, was depressed, and constantly whined. It seemed I could not do it, I COULD NOT DO IT! I finally broke and screamed at it all. Who was this Samaritan who simply left me? “Where are you, you traitor!? What’s faith? It’s killing me!”

Then an unknown flame roasted within me. “That’s the point.” my heart softly whispered into my crying ear.

It seemed that the death of me – was still, exactly, the point. 

I could not do it.

But, by faith, He could!

Tree Terug en Vra

Jy meet my op
met jou liniaal
van reg en verkeerd
en word ek
opgesom om
die een te wees
wat myself af skei
blind beweeg soos
‘n muis in ‘n tonnel

van onoorspronklikheid

kom die dood
want jy word versmoor
en die vleeslike
neem dalk oor
want om myself
uit te vee
deur myself
te gee
gee vir jou niks

om meer te leef

beteken ek moet
leer om myself
te wees en
om te kan
triomfeer maar
rigting kom nie

uit mens self uit

kan min oorwin
want dis uit krag

wat mens nie het nie

kan jy kry as jy Hom maar net vra.

Jou Begeerte

My honger
besef ek nou
is na jou

begeerte

en hoe meer
Ek jou gesoek het
hoe meer
het Ek
myself verloor
eintlik vermoor

jou dalk versmoor

want jy kon
nog nie
oopmaak
en my toelaat
om jou wêreld
te word nie.

En ek het
met my rou hart
vir jou ‘n hawe
probeer skep
maar jou skeep
het sover net
in die oseaan
bly lê.

Eensaamheid

Eensaamheid krap
aan my verwaarlose deur
soos ‘n onskuldige hondjie
aan ‘n koue staal plaat.

Dit kerm soos die skerp wind
deur die leë hoeke
van verbrokkelde murasies
in ‘n droë Namibiese woestyn.

Wanneer daag
my hawe uiteindelik op?
Wanneer verlig haar lewende oë
hierdie doodstil vertrek?

Hoekom sleep my siel so swaar
aan hierdie blou anker
wat my geswikte enkel
aan die harde seebodem haak?

Moet ek groot en wys word?
Net besef waar ek geplaas is?
Is ek so geheg aan die bekende
dat ek ‘n onbekende diepte mis?

Verlig asseblief my siel o Vader!
Ek smag om te sien
hoe U my deur hierdie
skeurende eensaamheid wil bedien.

Om te Los

om te los
te skei
om te pos
te sny

die grond
van gras
die hond
van blaf

maak dit vry
om te isoleer?
maak dit bly
om te ignoreer?

is God liefde
in my en jou?
is Sy briewe
in ons toegevou?

moet nie versmoor
hoe sal hul Hom sien?
moet nie stoor
hoe sal Hy hul bedien?

God het ‘n agenda met
jy daar en jy daar
God smag eenheid tussen
jy daar en jy daar.

kyk verby die balke
na die lig binne
kyk vanaf die hemele
na Sy groter prente.

…asseblief ❤

Wemelende Wanorde

Dit is maar met
‘n lang lyf
wat mens moeg
die horrel huis
bedaard betree
en sieldodend sien
dat die klosse kakiebos
dit nog oerwoudelik oorrompel.

Dis maar ‘n seer straf
nadat jy klaar kapoet
heeldag heen-en-weer 
die buite grond gaar
bewend bewerk
het en dan nog nodig
het om jou hele huis
van ‘n orige orkaan
se slap skade
treurig terug te timmer
na hoe dit waarlik was
die vorige ander aand.

Gee ons krag vrymoedige Vader
ons voel versmoor
deur pleitend te probeer
om die ordinêre orde
van kop bo bakke bly
volhoubaar te volhou
en as blerrie beloning
vyf sakkies sekondes
oor te hê om net neerhalend
en moer moeg
ons pakke passies
te moet laat groetend gly
want ons sukkel so
om na al die orde se skep
net wakker te probeer bly.