Monday, August 11, 2008

The Ones Who Stay Behind

It was a clear day the waves were coming in

This sand so hot as always a red dry road brought us here

My brother sat just out of reach

He watched the boats taking away our village.



I close my eyes and in my mind saw Marion the big fat fish vender

When she got in her boat it almost tipped over her red kaftan swaying in the wild wind

She was giggling like she does when she sells a big catch and I laughed too

But now I feel empty and behind me our market is empty



My mother is humming and I try to hum too

But the boats are getting smaller and smaller

And I have to squint to see my father still waving as the boat surges with the water

Something flashes in the sun and I swear it's the necklace I made him

I found the shells and pieces of glass on this very beach

It doesn't seem important now my heart is heavy and I keep looking on the shore

For something that I lost but I don't know what it is

Sunday, August 10, 2008

emtpy


they`re swaying with the wind
they`re singing there`s a whisper in the waves
as they swing against the shore
an echo in the emptiness they come without people
the people come without them

there are doves of hope
doves curious about the contents
doves chattering the story of these vessels
they came all the way from Africa
they won't leave the little empty tombs

a beach umbrella in the back is a beacon
where people lay suntanning doing their normal things
people on vacation people who didn't leave their homelands
running away from sadness people sitting looking out over the waves
where the boats keep arriving empty or full

Sunday, August 3, 2008

that thing

they should have run they were free now
sick flames of their little boat had captured them
all of those days at sea up in flames
their stories were whispering back

it couldn't hold them anymore
but their feet dull and mired
like anchors in the new land didn't want to leave
their sweet doomed vessel alone
to its fiery end
it was one loss too many
they couldn't bear the burden of another soul
flying home to destiny´s whim

they´re burning boats that carried the ones
all the way from the deep
they bring children and women,
men who have walked through Africa only to find the other side
empty and replete with more danger
than the hunger and death `
left behind

each boat cracks with a sigh
smoke rises like stories of hope
and reaches the heavens like all good angels do
once I saw an old shoe go up in flames
the only testament left in the sand are flakes of ash
blowing like flowers back to the homeland