Escape
a poem by: Ingrid Jonker
I escaped from this Valkenburg
and now remember me in Gordon’s Bay:
I play with frog fish in a stream
and carve swastikas in a smoke wreath tree
I’m the dog jogging on the beaches
and stupid-only barking at the evening wind
I’m the seabird wandering hungry
and make up dead nights as a meal
The god who created you from the wind
so that my sorrow finds in you perfection:
My body lies washed out in weeds and grass
in all the places we once were.
Spilled Words is what we offer one and all.
A website offering fresh, original and exclusive material by writers who espouse the philosophy that “Words Matter” and believe that imagination is the seed of accomplishment.
We are passionate about the world we inhabit. Aware there are two sides to every story. Persistent in our pursuit of all points of view.
A place to think, to laugh, to shed a tear. Where words are gifts that feed the soul; ignite a flame within the heart; excite the recesses of the brain; spark passions and concerns; inspire the conscious and subconscious.
Join Spillwords for this and more…
A website offering fresh, original and exclusive material by writers who espouse the philosophy that “Words Matter” and believe that imagination is the seed of accomplishment.
We are passionate about the world we inhabit. Aware there are two sides to every story. Persistent in our pursuit of all points of view.
A place to think, to laugh, to shed a tear. Where words are gifts that feed the soul; ignite a flame within the heart; excite the recesses of the brain; spark passions and concerns; inspire the conscious and subconscious.
Join Spillwords for this and more…
Latest posts by Spillwords (see all)
- German - July 12, 2026
- Escape - July 5, 2026
- After-Thought - June 28, 2026
