Abigail George

All about Eve

—for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee

‌   On this brilliant summer day let’s do

‌   away with instinct, Moses, Joan of Arc,
‌   Albert Schweitzer, Franz Kafka, and
‌   Emily Dickinson and return to words,
‌   the nature of life, the birth of morning
‌   inheriting the wolf. I do not want to
‌   live here forever like this. Finding the
‌   source of Everest, the Nile. I study her.
‌   Her hair, her belly, her smile, her laughter.
‌   Her beautiful, and sensitive hands and
‌   interesting face. The one I call mother.
‌   Triumph and hope, despair and triumph
‌   co-exist. The lover becomes philosopher, I
‌   become teacher. I think of her red shoes,
‌   the ex. My brother’s ex and of how
‌   she’s no longer here in this space. I
‌   think of the happy vibes between lovers,

‌   cold sunlight, the life of the sea, the
swimming pool. I’m wounded looking
‌   out at the veil of this coastal city. Waves
‌   flood every nerve. My anxiety withers
‌   in this storm. This, this is my story. The door
‌   appeared like dark paper. The craft of
‌   writing, for example, brings me to you.
‌   The Johannesburg of you. I think of the
‌   radio playing in my lungs. Mountains on
‌   the television. I listen to the social outcast
‌   eating dry bread and who wants to
‌   make a conversation with me. I think
‌   of the icy mouth of winter’s stamina.
‌   You’re begging for another survival-
‌   cycle, lover. My hands. Yes, these hands
‌   carry this human stain. This is not goodbye,
‌   and I will fear no evil. I’ll only live
‌   for the greater good. Be a man. Go on!
‌   Be a man. The reward will be freedom.

Pushcart Prize nominated Abigail George is a South African blogger,
essayist, poet and short story writer. She is the recipient of grants
from the NAC in Johannesburg, the Centre for the Book in Cape Town,
and ECPACC in East London. See other work on Bluepepper, an
Australian-based zine edited by Justin Lowe.