{"version":"1.0","type":"rich","provider_name":"hearthis.at","provider_url":"https:\/\/hearthis.at","height":"150","width":"100%","title":"ShalomKwaitoLegends","description":"**FOR THOSE OF US WHO MAKE MUSIC\r\n**we walked in the early morning when the dogs were tired of barking\r\nour footsteps,\r\nlost in the ways of ticking minutes\r\ntook us everywhere where we never intended to be\r\nlike,\r\nremember how the minute looked under its sole\r\nand there our blood was\r\nour flesh, stuck under sole turning to soil\r\nblood and flesh turned to mud\r\nthe hour, like all the applauses we know and have heard\r\ndeclared us ants destined for the mad hoofs\r\nso the weary midnight hour held our hands\r\nand the empty streets stared at us with their lights\r\nand again, once more, we kept turning on our beds\r\nas if the mattress was hot earth roasting worms\r\nah\r\nmusic-maker, one day when your feather breaks\r\nand the prowess of your speech vanishes like a snowflake falling on the earth\r\nremember\r\nyou ride the hour like death rides life\r\n\u00a9 1975, [Mongane Wally Serote](https:\/\/www.poetryinternational.com\/en\/poets-poems\/poems\/poem\/103-15597_FOR-THOSE-OF-US-WHO-MAKE-MUSIC)\r\nFrom: Behold Mama, Flowers\r\nPublisher: AD Donker, Johannesburg\r\nnew york, 1975\r\n","thumbnail_url":"https:\/\/img.hearthis.at\/6\/7\/7\/_\/uploads\/10520825\/image_track\/11366986\/w1200_h628_q70_ptrue_v2_----cropped_1725873114776.jpg","thumbnail_width":1200,"thumbnail_height":628,"html":"