By Sifiso Mtshali

But when depression
swiftly falls/in haste from heaven,
like breaking storm/that bends as broken,
sharp shooting light/and hides the good,
In winter’s shroud/and crown with sorrows,
good rose of morn/plant thy feet,
as willow be/and bend unbroken,
this brooding shame/and claim your light,
as unconquered sun/who curves a fool,
from scheming night

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