Chris van der Westhuizen

Flenters lê hulle.
Ek kry jammer,
maar ek kan nie.
Ek dink aan hulle,
soos ek verby die
smekende hande loop.

In my motor klim ek,
met gesig op stuur gerig.
In my gedagte sien ek
nog die oë, vol hoop belig.

Ag Vader, help my
om nie so sleg te voel.
U verstaan wat ek bedoel.
In die land waarin ons lewe,
gaan dit met almal sleg.
Almal se glorie is weg.

Die vrae wat nou vir ure
in my kop rond draai:
Moes ek nie maar ’n geldjie...
Sal ek maai wat ek saai?

Ek kry so gou jammer, maar
moet aan myself eers dink.
Elke sent tweekeer omdraai,
moet maar tweekeer dink.

                              Chris M. v/d Westhuizen '2002

Nota: Toe ek hierdie gedig geskryf het, het ek so gevoel, maar die gedagtes verander en ons groei. Dit weerspieël dus nie noodwendig hoe ek nou voel nie.

I Feel Sorry, But...

They lie in shreds.
I feel sorry,
but I cannot.
I think of them,
as I walk past
the pleading hands.

I get into my car,
face fixed on the wheel.
In my mind I still see
those eyes, shining with hope.

Oh Father, help me
not to feel so bad.
You understand what I mean.
In the land where we live,
everyone’s doing badly.
Everyone’s glory is gone.

The questions spinning
in my head for hours:
Should I have given a little money...?
Do you reap what you sow?

I feel sorry so quickly, but
I must first think of myself.
Every cent turned twice over,
I must think twice, I guess.

                              Chris M. v/d Westhuizen '2002 (Translated from Afrikaans)

Note: When I wrote this poem, I felt this way, but the mind changes and we grow. So, this does not necessarily reflect how I feel now.