Stories never told
The salty sea of remembrance buried in my child's heart long ago overflows in an embrace of open spaces filled with long forgotten views I stagger into this day of celebration Forty and one years ago today I took my first breath of winters cold Free State air and now I plummet backwards into stories never told lined faces staring with otherworldly piercing eyes the old ones in my blood rise to the occasion and I almost hear my grandpa, Johannes, say: Israel is trekking around the mountain hey? Sign in to see full entry.