A Song Of Peace For Bheki Mseleku
in memoriam bheki mseleku
my hands are alive…
my best friend’s hands stopped breathing yesterday
his piano waited and waited
throbbing with the pulse of music
dying to come out dancing
like flames of eternal freedom…
my hands are alive
pulsating
with the syncopated ebony blood flow
of deepest memories…
long before the ivory towers
surrendered to the vermillion sun
burning within the embers of African melody
my hands are alive
this morning they caressed the skin
of a sacrificial bull
and the harmonics of its cries
ascended to join the singing stars
for we are people of the heavens
our perspiration is the rain
our open hands mirror the cosmos
we are the weather
we graze on the planes of the first dance
we are the morning
to cradle the star
that guides the herd
to where the sweetest water waits
strangers ennobled by our grace
hold hands and stroll
through the bountiful garden of our birth
their naked desire perfumed with the scent of our trampled fruits
while we let slip through our limp fingers
the natural treasure of our gift…
brother of mine
let me be your humble shadow
let me touch you
so that together
we can feel our way to the river
my hands are alive
hold me
and lead me
to the lying walls
that have become bridges
to a world where pain is music
your hands are alive too
I feel them against my heart
Like the wings of a bird of paradise…
Eugene Skeef 10-09-08