Gideon 2 Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

He always sought the summer
with its heavy sun
that burned away the skin
beneath the skin. Toiled
to till the hard soil
as he tries to till it still
to find the life beneath.

Now the harsh sun tremors
in his hands and eyes as in branches
of bare trees where birds aren’t stilled.
To their slow, cold, endless song
he tries not to listen. But listens still.
As across his land, as hard as grief, words try to break
like clods of earth when once rich soil was tilled.