The White South African

As a white South African I have mixed feelings about how I should relate to my country. Underneath the guilt, shame, anger, indignation and resentment lies the clear and simple bond a person born into a country who does not seem to want to have her.

I inhale this earth,
Where I was bred
and
hide between stone walls,
To murder the fear.

Which is part of me,
Which calls the tears
Where a used girl lies.

This land owns me,
I am strangled,
By my belonging.

No one can know,
The shadow’s fist that holds me,
That shows a way
To stop.

Yet we walk on,
Because a frozen moment
Is permission.

I am drenched in this soil
From which I claim no love.
I am naked,
In this mud of shame.