This Woman Here

for Akona and many others

See this woman here?

The one with her head unbowed and walking through the crowd

On and on and not looking back?

Walking on and on as the people part

And make a way for her?

See how her back, curving in the shape of a question mark,

Still carries her past?

See how it was once carved into a submission

And confused like the trees on the mountain slopes

The ones that stay bent through the seasons

Even when the imizimu wailing down from the mists

And causing sleepless nights

Vanish, to the ocean perhaps.

And you talk of them but cannot see them.

You know they will visit at least once a year,

And you talk of them but cannot see them.

And each year their effect might fade

But she remembers.

Each year they carry more souls to their depths,

To their ring of sorrows

Where the fires burn the brightest, and the longest.

Yet you talk of them in whispers and they wail louder and louder.

When will you talk of them until they are reborn as peaceful breezes?

You talk of them and her back gets straighter,

Straining to forget, and yet, facing the endlessly moving body

Where some resurface,

But many others slip down beneath,

It cannot be possible.   

She has one on her back, a ghost that refuses to move

But blinks in the sunshine of your voices.

And perhaps when she hears them get louder

She can lift its arms and let it move away.

She has a walk with a light tread.

It is a practiced walk, as though she has no cares

And has never been told what to do

When to do it, and how to do so.

What to say

When to say it, and how to do so.

As though she’s been told why.

Why. The reasons are too big for the small patch of earth under her feet

Where she stands still at one point,

And then moves forward once again.

See her measured gait as she weaves through the crowd? 

And everyone parts for her, sees her and acknowledges

This person. This woman here.

With the ghost sitting there, on this back, she walks through them.

She walks up onto the dais and picks up the microphone.

At first you think there is a sound problem.

Then you look at her with that ghost in her eyes.

And the wailing has joined her

And she is transported and taking you with her.

This woman here

See how her back, curving in the shape of an answer,

Still carries your future.