I was jolted awake near midnight by the sound of firecrackers going off across the community.
The last of the new year celebrants were getting a collective kick out of rattling the nerves of those who dared to sleep.
As the fog in my head cleared, I realised that the church next door was still in full swing. Loud singing and shouting filtered through fruit trees and hit my ears, and I marvelled at the stamina of the members. From the sound of things, they had a full house and the moment they were all waiting for had finally arrived.
Bring on the firecrackers and vuvuzelas.
Life sometimes throws you ‘curve balls’
Seemingly out of nowhere:
They blindside, rob you clean of your ‘voice’…
You reach for keyboard or wield the pen
Coherent thought flees and page stays blank.
Open your mouth to wax eloquent, you think, but…
Backed up against the wall, thrown under the bus,
Face to terra firma awaiting death.
You launch your appeal to Joseph’s God…
Under God, you still can
Emerge from beneath and reclaim your voice.
Shoulders back, step boldly to the plate
Wait not for affirmation, applause or validation
Forward march and give your best shot.
Home runs come only…
…To those who swing.