Mirror in the Pond


When we met

For the first time
He said:
He liked my brown eyes
And dimpled cheeks
Went to the elders
paid the bride prize
we moved in together
joined in the dance
At the village square

Thirty years later
I still have brown eyes
the square is empty
as my heart.

After seven years
of pounding the streets
he got a job
and went home
for the traditional blessing
his happy mother prayed
as she gently placed
the horse tail
on his shoulder
“You will not walk
on the day
the road is hungry.”

He didn’t,
we picked his charred bones
when the exploding fuel tanker
hit his bedroom.

Roadside explosion
the kick of the foetus
brought her to her feet
a dark silhouette against
the desert ocean.

The gathering ball of
of the fleeing jeep
took him away
from lust of war.

In the desert
face to face
she stared at him
a nightmare from her dreams
his scarred staring eyes
jaded from the screams
of constant mortar fire.

Her swollen belly,
the fruit of their explosions
across the haze of
mutual hate and suspicion,
her pain from tribal rejection
and shame,
they stepped across
the chasm of their pain
as the soldier
mid-wifed the newborn
of the rejected bride.

1 Comment
  1. Avatar of Mark Biskeborn
    Mark Biskeborn says

    Good poem. I liked it. It reveals the hunger and the desire for love and humanity.

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