The Breath of Sparrows… for Madiba

The Breath of Sparrows

for Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela

So it has arrived, the news

of your departure. Last night

I dreamt I was in the house

of my mentor, as a frequent guest

who took a desk by the window.

A towering tree with red

and yellow flowers as big as hands,

the breeze slipping between each

petal finger. I went to his room

to ask the name of that tree.

He lay on his bed, resting

with eyes closed but aware

of the birds weighing down

the branches, leaves caressing

the roof. The breath of sparrows

like his own. There was no need to name

the tree, no need to name anything

at all at that moment. I bid him thanks

before leaving, my footsteps drowning

in sparrow wings.

-o-

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