Wednesday, 22 April 2009
When her hand lay lifeless at the break of dawn
An unironed crease, she
Reminded me of a wave that
Returns to the ocean
Leaving the shore washed, clean and pure.
And as I remembered all the things
I’ve learnt to hold,
Wheels, nameless colours, names, stories and strings
They were your own, as
You are to me.
But tell me, for no one else will
Of a mother’s pain that gives life.
Sing to me the songs of harvest
Of the village you left behind.
Simple secrets, like a bird’s nest
And cracks in our ceiling
Teach me how to speak with silence.
Teach me how to be the rain.
And more, for when the boy in me
Meets the man I will be tomorrow,
We began as we are,
Strangers to ourselves
Without roots or maps and lines
Scattered footsteps in the sand.