I promised you would be scattered at home.
We’ll have a party in the sun and you’ll float,
in the warm Indian Ocean.
You told me that I can’t change people,
that people don’t change.
But I didn’t know what you meant.
Your soul was damaged on your travels.
Somehow cut into little pieces
Of the human condition.
How did the moon look from your cardboard box?
You said you were afraid of dying
From the insects under your skin.
It’s been open for a while now.
Go to sleep, it will be okay in the morning.
I know you are lonely.
You said you hated liars, but you lied.
You said you hated thieves, but you stole.
Stole the futures of many lives.
You’ve been your own burden. You’ve made bad decisions.
But we all have.
I’m on the train,
Heading home today.
If this is the last time I see you,
Know that I love you,
That I will never understand you.
Born in 1993 in Nelspruit South Africa, Megan-Leigh Heilig grew up in Johannesburg. Megan’s work consists of a range of diverse mediums and collaborative practices; including text, installation, video and film. Her work often involves the sharing of a dream, memory, or a personal experience, story-telling is central to her practice.
A pan-African writers' collective and publisher