dung beetle rolling
along roodside puddle
O looking glass!
Valentine Kizito. All reserved (c)
dung beetle rolling
along roodside puddle
O looking glass!
a runaway child
in a blue field —
moon at day
a labyrinth of eroded gullies
lead us into the open sea
the sun on our face
and water birds over our heads
leaving our clothes in a trail at shore
we went in for a swim
spread across the blue waters
.
a fishing boat cruised by
and we begged the fishermen
“please give us a ride out west
there is a nameless island out there
the dwellers of the island they say
dance and play music all day”
.
the astonished men in amazement asked
“but what will you wear
your clothes lie empty at shore”
“we will not need any covering” we said
in that island they say there is nothing to hide
We strayed from the band
Me and the tambourine girl
We heard their calls from a afar
Yet on we went
Deeper in to the dark forest
She danced ahead
Playing her tambourine
Her feet flickered
in the soft undergrowth
Her smile lit the way–
Urging me on.
My head was spinning
But my legs obeyed
I went out into the woods
An expanse fresh air after rain
Sat on a stone under a pine tree
and pondered my wretched state
The soft winds wafted by
and I was drenched in teary showers
That awoke me from my pondered state
to unseat my chin from my palm.
Like the pining tree
Having been steadfast in the storm
Wept in the soft wind
After the storm is long gone
This too shall pass
A voice whispered in the night
And with assuring command bid me leave
I adamant continued my sleep
And in the quiet of dawn
A Churning whirlwind passed by
Nothing remains of my hut.
Now I wander in the woods
Enjoying odor of fresh pine
Spilling dew off flowers
Now I wander the grazing fields
Waking the little shepherd boy
Who has fallen fast asleep
On the back of a grazing ox
Now I wander in desolate homesteads
Receiving alms of food and drink
And back on my way again
Undressing the cob in haste
Just to savour it a grain per mile.
So I’ll wander on riding on kindness,
Till I have built a warm hut in every heart,
For all wanderers coming after.
Then the churning whirlwind will come again
And clear all sorrows away
Then the whisper in the night
Will call me back home.
PS; Illustration is a picture yours truly hehe.