By Roger G McDonald
Six days. Our absence underlines a flow.
Knitting heroes shame us with their crop
of squares and hats and vests. They let us know
the orphans aren’t forgotten. Though a drop
in all the need, it simply cannot stop.
Palm Sunday. A volunteer’s invited
our family to her church in Soweto.
Our youngsters, at first, aren’t quite delighted.
We apply a firm but gentle veto,
and make our way into the former ghetto.
(to be continued)