Monday, March 9, 2015

SILHOUETTE for Roberta Sykes      [Stefanie Bennett]
 
 
Here is a country where spotted hawks
Preach their tabernacle
Not found in books -
 
And within the bare arms of desert hakea
Green ants fortify
The most meagre possessions.
 
Gold clouds gather an eclipse
Of vacuity; the aurora
Sash slits the histories.
 
I dream how the numbat charts
Its path
- An outgoing legend, while
 
My form is but a tossed mis-
Shapened thing...
A tear
 
On a stone pillow.
 
 
 
MEASURE – Homage Paid    [Stefanie Bennett]
 
 
I thought him shallow
Until he bowed
To “kiss” the ground
- This Dosha
With ‘the trouble’
Emblazoned
On his chest.
 
Lilacs flared and
A sparrow
Held her wing
At half-mast.
            “Sinhala!”
He hissed, the larynx
A dirge
Born of sand...
 
Repeat Sri Lanka
And weep.
 
 
[Dosha/ritual healer. Buddhists ‘kiss
the ground’ with their feet]