Two thieves

Charl-Pierre Naude

That was the day I lost everything I owned.
Cleaned out, ransacked, completely unexpected.
By two strangers, a young woman and a little girl.
There was a warning out on this latest tactic.
They use innocents, then ambush you from behind.
I heard the soft, shy knocks at my front door.
Like a Visitation, from the Other Side.
Testing, of course, if somebody is home.
I waited for the crowbar sounds, a bread knife in my hand.
Until the laughter left, the crystal sacrament.
In a flutter, like two pigeons from a silk bag.
But I remained prepared. I still don’t understand.
I heeded the warning. I knew they would return.
But none of this saved me from the terrible deception.
I opened the door, the knife behind my back.
They’ve almost given up hope, the woman said.
Her daughter would like a leaf from my tree, because it’s silver.
I looked right past them for the danger
lurking behind, the reason for the decoy.
They were poor, but crowned with smiles.
Ask God for a leaf, it’s His tree, I said grumpily.
Another man wanted to shoot us, the child said proudly;
oblivious to the fact that then she would be dead.
I watched them walk away, cloaked in their music.
Mother and daughter. With their miracle, their little leaf.
Nobody attacked me. Nothing else happened.
Except that I lost my desire to own anything.
And if you lose the desire, you lose everything.
They robbed me blind, those two thieves.

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