Wet-nosed God

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By Morategi Kgomokhumo

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My people owe you

Debts they can never repay

From your udder they drew strength

From your excrement they produced shelter

A god satisfied by water and pasture

We were hungry, and you fed us

You lay on the red sandy soil

And said

“Here... take my flesh”

Rich, red and rare

We ate your flesh

From womb to the unknown abyss

You raise us

And when we die

You once again offer yourself

You lay on the dry dusty dirt

And say

“Here…wear my hide as cloak

As you sleep forever”

The least I can do

Is to come to life again

As the grass that will feed you.