Sorrow
"Just as water mirrors your face,
so your face mirrors your heart."
~Proverbs 27~
The smoky aftertaste
of burnt maize absorbs
the color of river water at dusk,
seeps into the bush, shadow art
drawn with nubbed point. It penetrates
pores in decimals; metal
against tarmac, a rabbit's cry,
the red choking cough sucked airless
by negative force, fists
that quiver before they fall
like quails shot from the sky.
It mews in the hushed tones
of the lost and alone, the constant
flutter of the weaver bird in the acacia tree,
the sudden blending of lines
a baby zebra's stripes, the underbelly
of any beast.
Each night in the mirror
she lifts a finger, maps out
footpaths through endless
banana groves, great rifts
forged by the rains and scorching sun.
-- Barbara Ostrander