At your gate

I stand at your gate, Madam,

On time, 07h30


As requested.

It’s cold.

It’s taken time.

2 hours to be exact,

To wake, to wash to walk.

Taxi 1, Bus 1, Taxi 2,

To walk.

At your gate,



On time.

As requested.

Your convenience,


But you forgot.

You are sleeping,

Your phone is off,

What must I do?


Will you hear?

Hundreds of years of frustration,

Servant servitude

At your gate.



On time.

Waiting for you to wake up.

Change is coming

For you

For me,

But I suspect,

That while your colour may change,

I will still be at your gate

Waiting for you to wake up

But you, Madam

Will still be sleeping!

But I am, Madam

On time.


Note: The above poem, surprisingly, was discussed on a CliffCentral. Select option “At Your Gate” at the following link and  listen to discussion here.

And then as a follow-up I went into the studio and was interviewed. Select option “A  Gate in Time” at the following link and  listen to discussion here.


At your gate

Calling & the James 1:27 Trust

For more information have a look at the James 1:27 Trust site:

Corrections: The James 1:27 Trust is now starting to run its HCM off OrangeHR and not off SuccessFactors as mentioned. The United Nations Conventions of the Rights of a Child have 42 Articles, not 40, with an additional 12 (articles 43 to 54) dedicated to implementing measures.


Calling & the James 1:27 Trust

Barnabas Group Tour



I recently had the privilege of traveling with Dave Rees to the Barnabas Groups of Dr Michael Cassidy from African Enterprise.  The above message is a summary of the message I brought to the Cape Town, George, Port Elizabeth, Durban, Pietermaritzburg, Johannesburg, Pretoria and Bloemfontein groups.  The contents of the message are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, beliefs and opinion of  Dr Cassidy, African Enterprise or any of the more than 200 diverse Barnabas group members.


Barnabas Group Tour

White Privilege

Source Getty Images

They question why I care

The stare

Deep within my soul of shame

Historical purgatory

Constructed theology

I cringe at the thought


Nowhere to hide

To go

Exile deferred

My home

My place in time

My heart sublime

Can you not see

Beyond rhetorical  dysentery

My God I love

His lens I find

I look

Neglected child


Free from facist control

Racial hyperbole

I run


Race of grace

To find my own eternal place

Stare no more

Let’s leave our own mediocrity

Self obsession

Neurosis defined

And stand

Beyond the walls of bigotry

White Privilege

Burning cigarette in hand


Between his bakkie and his “boys”

He stands burning cigarette in hand


Servile pick axes

Breaking open the red, red sand

Covenant in repose

Suspended moment in time

Cosmic dance

Floating liminality

Dream? nightmare?

His “boep”

Suspended above his belt of truth

Protected overhang

Chosen, from mother’s breast

A birth right


Pick axes digging in the sand

Burning cigarette in hand

Breaking open the red, red sand

Son of Africa

So grand

Can you not see?

Your “boy”

Is not your “boy”

He is a man.

Burning cigarette in hand