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A wanderer’s prayer

I have a vast playlist that I put onto random, so I never know what type of music will come up next while I’m working. There’s nothing like a random upbeat song to perk you up when you’d normally click on a sad song or the penny-drop moment when an inspirational song plays and gives you food for thought you weren’t aiming for. Just as I was coming in to have some lunch, this song came up. It’s in Afrikaans, so I’ve written out the lyrics (hopefully correctly!) and translated them to the best of my ability, keeping in mind that poetry doesn’t always lend itself to translation.

I want to dedicate this to my dearest friend and fellow ‘swerwer’, Felicity. It would have been your birthday today. Amanda Strydom reminds me so much of you. You were there alongside me for much of that path I was on and knew my dragons. I miss you.

Pelgrimsgebed by Amanda Strydom

vader god, u ken my naam
my binnegoed en my buite staan
my grootpraat en my klein verdriet
my vashou aan alles wat verskiet
u ken my vrese en my hoop
die pad wat ek so kaalvoet loop
die pad het u lankal berei
u maak die pad gelyk vir my

alle pelgrims keer weer huis toe
elke swerwer kom weer tuis
ek verdwaal steeds op die groot pad
soekend na u bordinghuis

moeder god u ken my waan
my ego en my regopstaan
die drake waarteen ek bly en veg
u wys my altyd weer die weg
u het my met u lug geseen
die lug stroei ek oor ieder een
net u weet hoe my toekoms lyk
ek het niks, u maak my ryk

alle pelgrims keer weer huis toe
elke swerwer kom weer tuis
ek verdwaal steeds op die groot pad
soekend na u bordinghuis

alle pelgrims keer weer huis toe
elke swerwer kom weer tuis
ek verdwaal steeds op die groot pad
soekend na u bordinghuis

father god, you know my name
my inner self and my outward stance
my big talk and my little grief
my clinging to all that fades
you know my fears and my hopes
the path i walk barefoot
this path you prepared long ago
you smooth this path for me

all pilgrims head home again
each wanderer returns home
i’m still lost on the great path
looking for your boarding house 

mother god you know my delusions
my ego and my standing tall
the dragons that i stay and fight
you always show me the way again
you blessed me with your light
this light i spread to everyone
you know what my future holds
i have nothing, you make me rich

all pilgrims head home again
each wanderer returns home
i’m still lost on the great path
looking for your boarding house

all pilgrims head home again
each wanderer returns home
i’m still lost on the great path
looking for your boarding house

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4 Comments

Posted by on October 25, 2013 in music

 

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Making friends with the dark

…0r at least being accepting of the dark.

I live about as close to paradise as one can get. Yes, there are things I’d love to improve our situation with, but otherwise, we’re in a good place, surrounded by lovely people. Still, there are times when I look out at the bright sunshine and all I see is the dark within me.

Art by Chris Spring 

The dark is heavy and impenetrable. It actually pushes that bright sunshine aside. Smiles become work. laughter is forced up from a memory of the feeling. I walk with my head bowed. “What’s wrong?” asked a colleague. “Nothing,” say I. “Where’s the bubbly, smiley Corrianne I’ve come to know?” she asked. “I shot her,” was my reply. I smiled at her. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” I hope.

You see, it gets comfortable in the dark. I’ve always loved the dark. I think, for me, it’s a time when the excess of stimuli that comes with the day is quietened. I have to be careful, though, that the dark doesn’t overtake me.

This dark is different… definitely not comfortable. It’s a time when I stare at beauty and I hurt. It’s a time when click through my friends online and I’m tempted to just close my accounts and cop out of it all. It’s a time when I sit, looking inward and what I see makes me cry. My thoughts are uncomfortable with sharp edges jabbing my mind.

I go off to cook dinner, not because I want to, but because it’s a requirement of relative normality. I put on some fighting music, something to stir the beast in me. Some songs make me cry over the onions (I knew there was a reason I like cooking with onions!) and some had me belting out defiantly against the world and all that ailed me.

Yes, tomorrow I’ll let the ‘other me’ back. I might even let her play a while.

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2 Comments

Posted by on September 18, 2012 in moody

 

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Dear Reader – The Same

(A repost)

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Dear Reader – The Same
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ87RvDDISY

Lyrics:

land, land of my birth
are you my mother
or am i an orphan

where, where do i belong
will i find a place in this world
or forever just wander around

southern hemisphere
how did i end up here
i have nowhere to go
this is the only home that i know
such a great divide
between you and i
how i wish it would go
i live in a place in my mind

no i don’t listen to kwaito, wasn’t born in soweto
i don’t understand you
but i want to you know

same, were both the same
we share the same heart
we’re made of the same parts

please don’t look at me that way
i already live with the guilt that i own
from my forefather’s past
does this land belong to the tribes who engraved her stones with stories of old
they’re long gone you know
now this is our home

i want to strip you down to the core
take off your shirt, hat, shoes and trousers
erase my head, all the books that i’ve read
the language i speak, the customs you keep
keep on going right down to the heart
to the pain that is yours – the pain that is ours
tell you it’s all going to be alright
is it going to be alright

heal, can you heal
heal, oh can you heal
heal, oh mother, can you heal
or am i an orphan
forever a stranger here

same, we’re both the same
we share the same heart
we’re made of the same parts

 
1 Comment

Posted by on September 14, 2012 in music, south-africa

 

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