I love the poem 'Learning to Love Failure' by Gabeba Baderoon:
"Two swallows tumble
like crumpled paper
after each other.
The camera fails again
and again to find the place
where life will fly through its aperture.
In the meanwhile, the swallows fall
like two crescent moons from the sky.
Fleeting tails in a corner of emptiness
just leaving the frame,
the photographer filming the swallows
has to learn to love failure,
how the almost having of the thing
is true in itself."
The notion of "almost having the thing" being "true in itself" makes me think of South Africa - our hopes of the new democracy and our daily disappointments. Of course the "almost having of the thing" is blatant at a global level too. And it is true of living in Bez Valley. There is a truth in the valley, though it is not the mountain top. The biblical character Moses was shown the "promised land' but he never actually got there. We want completion and finality but how often do we get it? It is hard to accept that what we have right now, right here, has a truth of its own.
"Two swallows tumble
like crumpled paper
after each other.
The camera fails again
and again to find the place
where life will fly through its aperture.
In the meanwhile, the swallows fall
like two crescent moons from the sky.
Fleeting tails in a corner of emptiness
just leaving the frame,
the photographer filming the swallows
has to learn to love failure,
how the almost having of the thing
is true in itself."
The notion of "almost having the thing" being "true in itself" makes me think of South Africa - our hopes of the new democracy and our daily disappointments. Of course the "almost having of the thing" is blatant at a global level too. And it is true of living in Bez Valley. There is a truth in the valley, though it is not the mountain top. The biblical character Moses was shown the "promised land' but he never actually got there. We want completion and finality but how often do we get it? It is hard to accept that what we have right now, right here, has a truth of its own.