War Child

Ripped apart

It happens shit happens

so they say

we do not have control

over things that shape us

that mold us

and sometimes

we do not understand

who we are

what we are

why we are

cannot explain

feelings deep inside

unbridled passion

unexplained longing

aching an tearing away

at out very fibre

trying to

unravel the cocoon

we spun

to surround us

in preparation

for our

metamorphosis

our rebirth

three things

maybe four

or more

 stayed with me

haunted me

kept me awake

the death of my  Father

cannot recall him

cannot forget  him

the death of the puppies

cruelly and brutally shot

in front of my fearful eyes

my tearful eyes

the death of my girlfriend

ripped away

on her way

to buy me a Christmas present

the Library in Grootbrakrivier

is named in her honor

the loss of Tweety

when the Army

took me away

my divorce

the birth of my two

beautiful daughters

the death of my mother

those are the things

significant

that I recall

there is one other

I cannot recall

but calls me

Quimby

my war child

I tried long and hard

to find her

to find Tweety

and I did

and she disappeared again

and this time

I could not find her

I always blame myself

my excess

my  past

and alcohol dependency

I never blamed her

only myself

and then

during 1980 I held a child

in my arms

A San orphan and we bonded.

inexplicably bonded.

the wild one

the rebel

the outcast

and this

sweet bubbly

tiny being

 bonded

It was fate

 my Angel

took me there

to the Caprivi

in my Uniform

and placed

Mara

in my arms to fill

the void

of my own child

born unbeknownst to me

my love child

my first child

my war child

Quimby

was the name

we chose before

I left for Military Service

the name she called her

when I phoned Christina

before she finally hung up

and finally

disappeared

She is my kin

she is part of me

you cannot change that

the universe knows that

there is a thread

that ties us

eternally

the helix

of life

itself

.