Crows croak their throaty groans
in tall trees on Table Mountain.
I walk the deserted paths haunted by
the threats of mugging, rape,
the casual theft of freedom.
The sea sparkles with precious jewels
of sunlight and white triangles
sail imperceptibly round unnoticed buoys.
On the Waterfront cardboard cutout buildings
are stage sets for the affluent
and cars are their protective clothing.
The mountain has its silen beauty but
in the chalice of conflation the voices mourn
the loss of trust of each for all.
The guidebook says vibrant, lively
and the beauty's real but all I see
is people living in cages of their own construction.