Bare,
unknown
Faces
peeking out
On the
dusty red road
Holding
hands
Sleeking
by
Making
room for a stranger...me
“4 hours
by foot
Or take
any truck”
No truck
passed
I kept
footing
At the
sun’s pulse
Holding my
breath
Before
dark
Passed
another man with a lance
Green
highlands
Turned to
dry meadows
Chuka
Meru, Where are you?
I nearly
passed you
With
greetings from the chief’s house
“This is
Chuka Meru”
And the
red road fades
In the
pitch black
Sounds of
the bush
Drums on
the hillside echo
The stars
echo back
HHHMMMMMMM
“Just a
Pentecostal meeting”
Hot basin
to wash
My shoes
stained red
Like her
threshold
Alone with
candles
Drums
reside
Red dirt
road waiting
For my
return
Maybe a
truck
But now
To meet
Jacinta: a friend of a friend in Chuka, Meru.
