One child (for Motlatsi), a poem by Joyce Ellen Davis
The beauty of a child can become lost In the beauty of all those children. �Tj Pfau This is the story of Motlatsi In another Africa, perhaps in an alternate universe. Lives a beautiful dark child With skin like smooth chocolate. Each morning he rises from his bed And eats the mealie pap his grandmother Prepares as she does every day. Today is like all the other days. She stirs, The corn meal in the pot goes around, And bubbles and thickens. Afterward, His grandmother takes his small soft hand In her large hand, and together they scatter Corn to the chickens in the yard. This is the story of Motlatsi. In another Africa, perhaps in an alternate Universe, lives this beautiful dark child With skin like smooth chocolate. He chases the chickens in the yard on his Tricycle. The bell on the trike sings A warning: I am coming! Watch out! I come! A pin-tailed Whydah cries from the broad leaves And green thorns of the Kahretsana. This is another part of the story Of Motlatsi, in another Africa, i...