a naked bone
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About this ebook
Mangaliso Buzani
Mangaliso Buzani grew up in New Brighton, Port Elizabeth, and later trained as a jeweller in Tshwane. His first collection Ndisabhala Imibongo (Imbizo, 2014) written in isiXhosa, won the 2015 SALA award for poetry. Buzani teaches poetry in English and isiXhosa in the MA in Creative Writing programme at Rhodes University.
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a naked bone - Mangaliso Buzani
I
The rain
Straight to the garden
the rain came
wearing clear-beaded shoes
it landed on the naked seed
which was fast asleep on its bed
the first sound I heard with my ears
was the creaking of an old bed
that needed some missing screws
to tighten its legs
but the rain kept on falling
the bed kept on singing
My first lesson
I was dust
but after the work of the holy hands
I rose up like a wave of the sea
to praise the sky
on my arrival here
I looked at my hand
and I named it a hand
I kept on naming things
until a full body arrived
so I settled among the flowers
quiet as leaves
I was welcomed by the snails
who taught me how to make
a trail of light on a leaf
Death of the leaves
The sun
wearing a yellow robe
and silver shoes
touched the trees with fire
One by one leaves left their homes
falling without a word
light in weight but heavy with pain
They lost their green
their bones
their clothes
among the stones
Inside the river
Inside the heart of the river
I want to be a sea-dog
but this nose can’t sniff
the scent of umamlambo
inside the head of the river
I want to be a writer
but this water
can’t keep the paper dry
inside the shoes of the river
I want to walk like christ
but the floor of the river
can’t keep up the weight of my feet
and I sink
to read poems
to frogs
The oven of god
Out of clay
from the oven of god
we came down here
losing our feathers
one by one
after each star
we left behind
to be human beings
we lost more of heaven
for sex in the garden
one foot on a thorn
brother
we must organise
some shoes
Revelation
From my palm
I blow away a pile of dust
that flies away with my flesh
for the first time on earth
my bones see my nose
and start to run away
I say to my aunts
the choir of god was here
wearing clothes of dust
they look at each other and laugh
Imbawula
I want to build my house inside your heart, to give you pure purple love from the fires of my soul. I want to turn my bones to coal, wood and paraffin. I want to burn the imbawula for you, to make you roasted bread. I want to feed your tongue with words so that when you open your mouth you will spread the music of poems.