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A matter of timing
The elephant and the mantis tiptoed
past my sleeping mother’s bedroom window
and into the starlit night (She was dreaming
of the ghost I would become)
I felt the cool soil under my unborn feet
as I slowly started to move out of her tunnel
and take my place in the World of the Perplexed
so that by the time my head got out
I was squealing perfectly in time
to the Elephant’s drum
and the jig of the Mantis that welcomed me
out of the womb into this place of unhealed silence:
There was a knock on the door. The Elephant opened the door.
It was Time outside. The Mantis said “Come on in.”
Then Time came in and suddenly I understood
that I would have to die one day
in order to become the Holy
Ghost my mother had dreamed.
So the Elephant, the Mantis, Time and I
all went in search of a slaughterhouse.
The clearing had been denuded of buildings by give us our daily bombings.
All you could hear was echoing waves ocean of blood.
I stood with the Elephant on my left
and the Mantis on my Right while Time started dancing
moving side to side minimalist double-beat
of the sacred bantwak drum.
Then our voices combined and rose
as we opened the Gates of our Silence where the umbilical cord
of our nation’s ghost had been buried without being named.
And for the benefit of the Perplexed
there will be a delayed
scream, “The explosion
will not happen today
it is too soon.” |
