People’s Syncretic And Secretive Practices by Ndaba Sibanda As I was growing up, one became aware that there was a lot of evidence of cultural syncretism in our numerous communities, be it in the remote villages or urban centres, during happy events like weddings, parties, etc., or sad instances like funerals, illnesses, worries, a huge number of souls seemed to be swayed by a combination of different forms of belief or practice: for instance, talk of African options, incantations and rituals at night on one end, and Christian worship sermons on Sundays, the ambivalences of seeking spiritual guidance from the fortune-tellers, traditionalists, or herbalists by the cover of the night and the avid pastor’s prayers during the day were notorious controversies and incidents. All the same, I heard one charismatic passionate pastor profess: you’re now a new creation, behold, you’re new! please, no more incorporation of beliefs and practices from unrelated traditions, the new cannot be the old, it’s a new dawn, move away from incantations, spells, rituals, you belong to the kingdom of light, not gloom.
by Herschel Fall
a.fall@sbcglobal.net
11×14 Acrylic on canvas
The Ginger Man (1) by Marilyn J Wolf Knew him 40 years Through kids, spouses, jobs, and more. Funeral today. We met in the bedroom and Always lived there in our heads. The Ginger Man (2) by Marilyn J Wolf We taught each other well We thought we knew Lust then we met and learned MUCH more we changed each other.
© Alys Caviness-Gober
Slight Shadings by Ndaba Sibanda degrees of dark and light make a pic perfect or right, if a peaceful poet poetises, his voice vows, wows or even sensitises, a poet’s work is his potent yell or composition through which he issues stars in a poetic fashion, accustomed to free and fulfilling possibilities of human art, his pen pours out shadings and meanings painted by his heart.
©Alys Caviness-Gober
Windy Irish coast We miss you Wild Man by Marilyn J Wolf Windy Irish coast Long hair/beard moving wildly It makes my heart hurt. My friend of 40 years died earlier this year. Not from COVID; he had a lot going on. It tried for years but eventually his body just couldn’t keep up. Even though we didn’t talk much, we both knew the other was always around through phone, text, email, infrequent visits. On his birthday this year, his daughter posted a picture of him on the coast of Ireland in a heavy sweater with his hair and beard long (I had never seen him with long hair) blowing wildly in the wind. One comment was, “No wonder the ladies liked him…;” I understand that completely. That picture made my heart hurt; I cried. My world is smaller without him in it.
The Kind Of Song That Humankind Should Sing by Ndaba Sibanda The artists across the globe got together in song and dance, and practised and composed a song whose lyrics go like: when the world seems to cartwheel on you, when the world seems to tumble on you, I’m that friend to come to your rescue, I’m that friend to count on, to lean on, to put a beam on your face, a great grin, and delight in your soul, hope every mile of the way, light in your night, music in your heart, buoyant, calming remedy and comedy, for laughter is lovely life. Together let’s pick up the pieces, together let’s pick up the pieces, life may not be predictably perfect but let’s learn to relish, cherish and bring around perfect times, be filled with thankful moments, and thrive, live in those moments, and embrace fond reminiscences of boom, brightness, and blessings. For the love of love and humanity, for the love of love and humanity, let there be a sweet song in our hearts, a listening pair of ears, a loving pair of hands, a fragrance on our bodies , a winning smile on our looks, and joy in our souls, every mile of the way in our one hopeful human race.
© Alys Caviness-Gober