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.
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.
