Thursday, December 22, 2011

Cape Town, The Mother City

She holds on to the edge of my skirt and refuses to let go. She cries for me like a child. But I thought she was the Mother and I was the child who had come to suckle on her breast for nourishment and like any mother when I reach late teenagehood she must let me go. She must trust that I am ready for the world. I went to the airport as agreed and yet when I was there ready to take off to the Eastern Cape she denied me exit. She would not let me go. This Mother City refused me exit.

She told me that I was 7 minutes too late for my flight and if I wanted to leave, I would have to pay much more. She tried to fine me or else I will pay a lesser amount if I leave a week later.

So I remain in the Mother City. At first I sulked. She kept telling me how grateful I should be. "Do you know how many people out there wished they had me as a mother?" She kept nagging, telling me of her beauty. Beauty I had and still appreciate but I am maybe after a while I am simply tired of being mothered. Where is the father? Maybe the city is full of people with father issues because she refuses to let us in the secret. Who is the father?

I have been telling her that I am giving her space. Space to take more people but she does not believe me. Men come to her and wish to be women too. I do not know how to explain that, but I know about her fire, I know about her tenacity. I know that she is the corner within which the nation is built and if she is not conquered and if her fire will not touch all her children in every province then we have no country to speak of.

She must release that love and begin to look outward and ask why are the nations drawn to her beauty? She is meant to heal the nations without discrimination if she will quit being vain. She will cleans the nations with her fire. Her beauty will awaken the the king's strength. He will roar her name. He will free the captives. From lion's head to the pyramids of Egypt that roar of the mother lion will free everyone of her cubs in every country. If she will see it.

And I must go. She must get that.

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I write a lot. When it's necessary I draw. 
I have been called a Poet, a Writer, an Illustrator, a Banner of Freedom, a Word Magician, etc.
I am a Lover of Truth embodied in beauty.