A VOICE FROM THE DEAD by Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali

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I heard it 

in my sleep 

calling me softly.

It was

my mother

speaking from her grave.

My son!

there is no heaven 

above the clouds.

WHAT!

Yes, Heaven is in your heart. 

God is no picture 

With a snow-white beard.

WHAT!

Yes, God is

that crippled beggar 

sprawling at the street corner.

There is no hell burning

with sulphur and brimstone.

WHAT!

Yes, Hell is 

the hate flickering 

in your eye.