Music of the porcupine musician

I wanted so much
to stroke his face
that he can see
how the music of the day
sparkle in freshwater
and as the notes
splash and plop
it would contain
the best melodies

but would I
be able to
do that now
that his words
are godless here
scorning lemonade
on trays
organ and accordion
he rattles
and rises

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poem by Elna Nel
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I suffered a song

what I have gone through
what I am still going through
in that degrading place
that they called my case
pain set like in cement
the props were men
the décor was lament
my song was a guitar in Africa
and I was in a milieu of war
and silent nights
of broken lives in groans
inexpressible
and dreams not accessible
the scars of torture
are still sleepless in body
and spirit and soul
leaning to imaginations
of relationships
that would endure
prison's demarcation

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poem by Elna Nel
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Time's sigh

messages flow
from Africa
declaring defiance
of time
in the beating
of the drums
bare hands
keep serving the air
with sound

together I am
one person
a woman
not alone
my feet walk
this earth
hardened
by the mistreatment
of many hearts
the hearts

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poem by Elna Nel
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