The Searcher

   She wandered through the long grass, eyes searching everywhere. Her candy-apple red Mustang convertible shone in the hot mid-day sun, but its glare faded behind her as she slowly walked further and further away from it. From behind her she heard the beginning of the tune "Material Girl". She had left her cell phone in the car. Any other day, she would have been in a panic to flip open her life-line and primp for the call. Today, it did not matter though. 

   "Where was it?" she wondered to herself , stopping every once in a while to scan around her.  It seemed she had looked everywhere and was beginning to lose hope that she would find it. A pout crossed her face and she was tempted to stomp her foot. Looking around her, she found her audience coldly unfeeling to her plight. No one cared. She was alone in her search with no one to direct to do her bidding. Her petulance dissolved in a huff. Her eyes stared flatly at the markings around her. Thoughts of tears were wasted here. This too would bring no assistance, although a single pearl slid down her cheek. She stumbled across a tree branch and crumpled to the ground. A small cry escaped her lips and she winced in pain. Finally her self-pity got the best of her.She shuddered and flung herself to the ground erupting in the tears that now were too real to control. It was too much. She sat hunched over in the grass letting the sobs escape her. 

  The wind whispered in the trees around her. Slowly she slackened her torrents and sat up. The whispers seemed to call to her. A brisk wind blew through an oak that hung its branches down to the ground. Its movement drew her eyes and she slowly lifted herself, drawing towards where the branches swayed. Her hand reached up to still the branch that hovered. The energy that flowed dropped her to her knees again. Her gaze took in the soiled pantyhose, then focussed beyond. She had found it. Desperately she scrabbled through her purse. Her fingers finally found the sought after item at the bottom; an old tooth brush. With shaking hands, she scratched at the soft limestone covered in ancient mosses. The letters emerged unwillingly one by one, until at last they were all revealed. Her expensive polished manicure was a memory left in yesterday's visions. She stared at the name written in front of her. Her mind blew hollow, as the wind drifted away. The sun retreated behind a cloud-cluster that had formed rapidly over top of her. Hard droplets splattered on the stone at her wrist. The brush clattered to its surface 

and she was gone.

This is a Magpie Tale

A poet's life

Well, it looks like the Poet's Rally at Jingle's is no more. As her closing last hurrah, she posted up the Poet of May Awards. I will take it to display with pride. I know that for whatever issues Jingle has, she worked very hard at the rally that she organized. I find it amazing that she always managed to visit so many poets and always find even more every week. She was diligent about commenting and visiting everyone that joined the rally, which I applaud her for. She also visited all participants after the rally was done to personally hand out any awards. I hope for her sake that the troubles that have befallen her give her opportunity for pause, reflection, change and regrowth. She inspired many and created a great community where people could come together to appreciate each others work. For that reason and because I know that others have appreciated my work, I post the Celebrate the Poets of May award and congratulate everyone who put themselves out there for so many to appraise and praise over the days, weeks and months past. May your love of poetry continue to flourish.

Poetry

the words within me
flow freely,
soar softly
not for thee,
although I love that you see.


I hold heart exquisitely,
tenderly
with words that flee
across pages free
every time I want to be
heard lovingly.


For it is ME
that I write for
Me
that heals my soul
me
that needs release 
and finds it 
with the words on the page.


You are just along 
for my ride,
but I hope you enjoy
the journey.
~Peace~

Way Station

   I did not look back as Durban trailed away behind us. We had parted ways with a fellow traveller, but new blood was added to even up our numbers. After the angst of Durban, we had had enough of South Africa and set our sights on new lands. A sojourn in Swaziland was the next  stop in our adventures. We welcomed the change. Technically a new country for us, it was actually considered a kingdom. Swaziland is landlocked and surrounded by South Africa on three sides with Mozambique on the remaining. The South African currency (the Rand) was accepted everywhere, although officially the Lilangeni was the currency of the country. That was not the only difference that we noticed though as we entered this tiny country measuring 200km north to south and 130 km east to west. Mbabane rose in front of us surrounded by the Dlangeni Hills. While it may have laid claim to being the capital, it was a much smaller and more relaxed environment than our former resting place. We breathed a sigh and hoped that the ill winds that had been gathering around us, would disperse in this new terrain.

 Arnie slowly putted into Mbabane, as our wandering eyes took in as much as they could of the city. The high-energy of Durban seemed a million miles away from this sleepy city. Certainly, there were amenities to be seen, but the glitz of the flashy tourist attractions were not in abundance. Here was a place to hunker down and get business taken care of, the first business being finding a place to rest our heads for the night. The Lonely Planet guide open on a lap gave suggestions and we cruised into a non-descript hostel that would fit the bill. Once settled into the hostel, we laid out a plan. One of the reasons for visiting Swaziland was to arrange visas for travelling to Mozambique. Obtaining directions, we pushed off with passports in hand to go through the legal wrangling necessary  to get said visas. After long, slow-moving lines we finally emerged from the drab consulate. I blinked at the sunshine that seemed like it should have gone to bed hours before after our ordeal. As they kept our passports to process until the visas were ready, we now had to sit back and stay close to the place at hand. Looking around, we wondered what to do next.

Since we seemed to be in a relatively safe environment, we drifted apart again. Brett and Oliver went off to hike through the nearby hills. Miki and I wandered the city and made our way back to the hostel. We debated a movie. Ultimately, I spent the time catching up on letters. On a following day, I discussed local politics with a man in a church centre that I happened across. He described a recent strike that the country had gone through that had lasted eight days and had effectively shut down the country. Water, electricity and telephones were all affected. I had heard of the strike and violence that came with it, but not the cause; maternity leave and back pay for nurses, amongst other reasons. Valid reasons, but to shut down the entire country was scary. I was glad that we had missed that.

We had our own troubles, though not near on the scale of theirs.  Brett had been in a fight the night before we left Durban. I had left my malaria pills behind there. For unknown reasons, Arnie’s starter motor seemed to be on the fritz. Somewhere between Durban and Mbabane, we discovered that turning the key in the ignition did not produce the desired effect. Around False Bay, we found that with a little encouragement in the form of a push start we were able to get in motion again. We looked at it as a trifling annoyance at the time. Add to that the minor gas leak, a bolt stuck in a tire  and the fact that the speedometer had stopped at 81km, Arnie was showing his wear. I prayed that once we collected our precious passports back again, we would hit better roads in the future. A sense of fore-boding could not be shaken though, as I noted that Mozambique was still recovering from their ten year war for indepence from Portugal, followed closely by an internal civil war that had lasted 15 years and only ended three years previous. What would we find in this new land, I wondered. 

Done

Mourning

days past

images painted unclean

spirit crushed in falsities

Done.

Sunshine in your hands

Delicious berries

ripe on fingers and wet mouths

Don't weigh us on scales

Strawberry short cake

dessert made for whipped cream queens

sunshine in your hands

Red, red mess of jam

success triumphed together

stirred with pride and love

today work away

 frozen berry daiquiri

rewards tomorrow