Tswapong Hills
o my ancestors
I pray for you I called by name every night
and you catch me unawares
slipping into my in-between states
not quite awake
not quite knowing what to do
reminding me
how you managed to live
long enough for
me to appear
now how may I best
honor your time?
offer you a cool drink of clear water
a shady canyon to rest your head
a wheel of vultures to look after you
a surprise in the deepest pool?
I ask humbly
knowing cured/cursed
are nearly one
