Ruth's Real Life

  Parakeets, Rats and Budgies When you feed the birds, you feed the rats. My desk looks out onto a bird feeding station. Every morning, I put out a range of seed, rice, sunflower seeds, apples and sometimes, grapes. Within minutes, the tree is a feathered wonderland. Johannesburg is classified as an urban forest and the birds make the most of the trees in our garden. Frequent visitors to the feeders are the rose-ringed parakeets. Their bright green plumage and sassy character make them entertaining visitors. But they are also alien and feral. They dominate the food and chase the smaller birds away. Every now and again, a blue budgie flutters in to defy the bully birds, on the run/fly from his cage and looking for a meal.   I open my curtains to the noise and movement and the birds are my symphony as I work. He comes over the top of the wall. Down the tree, along a branch, fat and sleek and looking for apples and seeds. He is a brown abomination of fur with a tail as ...

There is always the possibility of an unfolding. This poem began with a piece of paper. I had a blank sheet in my hands while I was invigilating an exam. As I walked between the desks, I folded and unfolded the piece of paper. Life is a little like this I thought, as the possibility of a blank page presented itself as I unfolded the paper. There are pages in my life that I’d like to rip out, the deaths of my brothers Paul and Michael, the loss of my mother too soon, my father, perhaps too late as he became trapped in dementia. I’d like to erase bad decisions and pencil in decisions not made because my heart lacked courage. I’d like to rewrite words that hurt and shape them into something gentler. Those things will never happen, the past is written in indelible ink. Nevertheless, today is still to be unfolded. This poem is dedicated to my partner, Julia, who with tremendous courage chose to unfold a new page in her life. I think though, that it also applies to all who feel...