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It Was 1939

i went on safari
to africa
with a group of real
outdoorsmen
(or at least that's what
they thought they were)
i was the only woman
among them and
secretly
i thought they were
cowards stalking
and killing those beasts
just for show
or
so they could
strut around later on
by the bon fire
retelling their inflated tales

as for me
i liked to look off
across the great
expanse of yellow grass
and track the birds
as they migrated
from water hole to water hole
and i liked watching how big
and brilliant
the setting sun was
i loved the smells
and sounds of africa
the sky and the animals

being there
was like going home
i understood
the africa of
Isak Denison and kuki galman
embraced it like
a long lost love
and for a short time
i found
peace...



Grace

he walks into
a great stretch of woods
feeling sun grow dimmer
with each step
the shadows are strangers
not welcoming
but he does not stop
he wants to feel
the weight of strangeness
the dull ache of fear
he is driven
engulfed in a shroud of
desperate calm
wants to find a tree
in the dark deepness there
and tie his rope
from a branch
not too high
but not low enough
to tempt
he will use a rock
or a stump
to raise himself
up
and then he gently
he will pull the loop
over his face
eyes closed
contemplating
the rustling leaves
and for a moment
he will feel
completely whole
before he kicks free
away from his perch
and falls into grace