Thokozilerankoe: Ode to those friends who drift beyond the horizon, yet somehow never leave

 

Thokozilerankoe

For the friends who drift beyond the horizon, 

yet somehow never leave

You actually wuz anxious for my Mummy,
wondering how she was going to cope with her loss?

What a Sweetie you were!

All that what-me-worry? Was just pose!

Ha ha 

Just popped into this mailbox
and found this old mail.

Take care.

Hope it's all going splendidly well.

And suddenly,
the years folded in on themselves.

The Years of Noise

I'm sorry if I caused problems for you.

It wasn't in my hands
to behave any better at the time.

I've emerged from all that destructiveness.

I was fighting for my life.

I was.

Still am.

But it's a lovely journey.

Looking back,
I can see now
what I could not see then.

The hands that steadied me.

The voices that encouraged me.

The people who quietly stood watch.

The Speed of Light

You helped me.

Not sure how I could have coped,
or even survived,
without a Thokozilerankoe
hovering somewhere in the universe,

someone I could run to
at the speed of light,

to tease,

to annoy,

to complain to,

(never about).

You were the best.

Been wanting to tell you,
but I think I ran out of chips,

and the one-armed bandit
simply would not budge.

Did Dye ever call you a one-armed bandit?

Seems a familiar term somehow.

A Name That Means Joy

Wow,

Thokozilerankoe.

Even your name
sounds like a song.

I later discovered
that Thokozile
means joy.

Rejoicing.

Gladness.

What a fitting name.

Some names
spend a lifetime
trying to become true.

Yours arrived that way.

You Virtually Do Not Exist

You virtually do not exist,

yet you do.

Like a lighthouse
that never asks ships to come closer.

Like a star
that shines from an impossible distance.

Like a voice
stored somewhere in memory,
waiting patiently
for the days one needs it most.

Years pass.

People leave.

Cities change.

The storms rearrange the coastline.

Yet somehow,
certain souls remain.

Not always present.

Not always visible.

Not always reachable.

But there.

Quietly there.

And what a comfort that is.

What a strange grace.

What a rare thing.

One More Thing

And perhaps that is the secret.

We spend our lives
counting achievements,

collecting scars,

measuring distance and time,

only to discover
that some of the greatest gifts
were never things at all.

Just people.

People who appeared
at the right moment.

People who listened.

People who cared.

People who never quite left.

The Mailbox

Funny thing, memory.

You open an old mailbox
looking for nothing in particular,

and out tumbles a reminder

that once upon a time,
someone was quietly rooting for you.

Not asking for credit.

Not seeking applause.

Just there.

And years later,
when the dust has settled
and the battles have become stories,

you find yourself smiling.

Not because life was easy.

Not because everything worked out.

But because,
along the way,

there was a Thokozilerankoe.

What a Gift

Thank you

for being one of the gentle constants
in a life that often felt otherwise.

Thank you

for hovering somewhere
between memory and reality,

between absence and presence,

between "not here"
and "always there."

What a gift.

Xoxoxo

DUnknown KPoet