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February 19, 2024

Whenever daylight falls upon the city

By Abigail George

Whenever daylight falls upon the city
(for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee)

     Elijah. David. Jeremiah. Job. Jonah.
God's chosen. There were others. There were others.
     I've written about this before. Falling

in love and falling to the centre of being
     out of love but I've never written about
     our love before. You made the veins in

     my heart splendidly narrow so that only
     the pure river could flow through.
     The smell of roses. Old wounds forgotten.
     Only the reigning legend of the sparse --
     sparse river could get through the shepherd
before anything else. Before the blood itself. I wanted you to
     know that I'm pressed for time. That
     you've been a legend in my life before
     you became a legend in real life. I'm
     writing this to thank you for not taking me
     all the way to madness like the others
     did. You were the virtuous one. You were
     the one who saved me. I just thought
     that you should know that. I've been carrying
     that around with me for the longest time

You were the original authentic.
     Genuine. They were fake but I ate
     their cake anyway because I was

     young. I called myself victim under a
     million stars. I just wanted you to
     know that life is different for me now.
     I'm no longer running up streets and
     down streets in Johannesburg-citylife.

     I'm authoritative when it comes to
     my feelings now. I don't try to slip a yes in
when I mean no. I've learned how to say no.
     Oh, I also know what thirst is. But I
     don't project my hate unto other people

     and I listen to others (which I never ever
     did before). This grid, I have put it away.

Article © Abigail George. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-06-24
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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