Jacques Kallis retires from Test Cricket.
All stern-faced those who held a bat straight
Are leaving, one after one:
Brother Jaques — rock-solid
Unattractive mountain standing at the wicket, that I disliked —
You, too, are gone now, you emotion-less tin
Man of a gift.
Not with a whimper. With a bang:
A nerve-held hundred on the last outing
Until the last moment, all emotions held in check:
A signature, one last time,
The steady cannon you were; before your enemy’s deck.
They are leaving, now — yes: one after one,
To be commentators,
Media icons — how sad.
Where you walk out, Jacques,
Other Jacques — like in Dickens’ book —
Will — perhaps — come and take over the good work,
Though not as good; not as as done by that
Whipping blade with a muscle to match;
Giant hands that scoop off from millimeters to the grass
And a number 3 who runs in steaming
Over after over; And bends his arse.
A rainbow sets
Of the Rainbow Nation.
Farewell, Brother Jacques —
Your willow, now breathing easy.