wama

August 2006 (8 or 9?)

We cower and huddle and hold our children to our breasts. We rock them and sing them to sleep. We look in horror at the backs of important people who seem to have some sway in the world of power. One of our gang sits ready waiting, listening for any small word, secret, sign. she has a direct line to one of the dignitaries walking tall with a neck so long it might be his back and nose in the air confident. This direct line is a leash an arm extended but it is unclear who controls who… we assume the dignitary is the one leaving crumbs for us to eat, but this could be a two way line. This important person on our side walks into a cloud of a woman. She barrs his passage like a checkpoint. She leans in and sticks her nose beneath our guy’s chin. She has many arms hiding under her skirt and she wants to know everything about him. Our guy stands strong and walks on the treadmill she maneuvers. Behind her monkeys swing in trees and chickens dance spindly. The evil cloud lady silouette stares us in the eyes but speaks out the back of her head in a language cross and indiscernable.

We listen, cross our fingers and light our own fires. And above/below a flower blossoms in the sea and opens up to small curious fish nibbling at her core. And when we look up from the billowing petals we see the mountain pushing at the back of the trees where the monkeys swing. We see this mountains whisper forcefully to open the wall of silence and impertinence. She does not find the monkeys cute or comical. She does not giggle at their antics, one standing on the other’s head, singing to the sky and the tops of branches. She plows forward and sometimes for extra power, she turns her back and braces her knees bent and pushes up and back. We cheer for her and admire her rolling strength and purpose.

posted by la kara @ 06:15