Across green hippoed river bed I heed your call,
Thumping through my brain´s foggy ageing wall,
Over the distance of childhood memories, turned to dust,
Reflected within archaic tears of the elephants musth,
Thudding dully on my dark, scratched, echoed soul,
Left long behind, a booming vacant endless hole,
Behind tented sleeping lids, I feel the blistered beat,
The ancient music in my head, stirring my heart, urging
my feet,
To sway to the chattering of slapped skin on hand,
To the whispering tongue of the throbbing land,
I feel the caressing kiss of zephyr’s dusty breath,
While dancing in my head to ecstasy’s sweet death,
It was there I left the child behind; where the bush voice
strums,
But the scars remaining deep, are of long-gone African
drums.
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