Chief
by: Kate and Anna
Underneath the Baoboa tree
The old man smiled
His Armani flip flops of red and green
Covered in a thin layer of gold dust
The old man's knitted hat
Held as a frame his immobile smile
His teeth shone like quartz
Breath rank as attic furniture
His eyes vacant, his mind wandered
Oh to be a man who has witnessed
The seedlings of the first Baoboa trees
A life of hardship, struggle, thirst
With roots stretching for the last drop
Toes digging in the sand
Thinking of the days of his first love
His hand clenching around his walking stick
Remembering the drummers' bangs of pangs
They could never have kept up with the pounding of his heart
Her hair braided into tight rows
As the onions in the field
With ordered prestige of a woman
Who made demands
And gave herself
So their love clings to the weathered soil beneath the trees
Refusing to be washed away
Glad you had some down time to write this.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem :) I just want to say that how much I admire all of you for all the work you're doing. You have so much to be proud of and I'm inspired. And I love all the pictures! it makes me want to be there.
ReplyDeleteMatt, I miss you and love you.
Your little sister,
Jess