The Totem
We travelled
many miles
you
and
I
rolled up
in the stiff cloth
of London’s
arthritic
winter
tumbling
into the late-Saharan
harmattan
sun-shrouded-Accra
at dawn.
We saw
fruit bats
coming
home to roost
stomach’s bulging
all drunken chatter
You
liberated
from beneath
that vast continent
of Martian dust
New moon
cradled in the arms
of your old self
a curved razor’s edge
made soft
with yielding silver
revealed
in quiet splendour
on Labadi beach
whispering:
“these true hands made me”
Siobhan Cawson-Mooney is our current Poet-in-Residence. Every now and then we find a voice that sings to us. Those voices that show us something new - voices from out there that somehow resonate deeply. Voices we just 'get'. When that happens we graciously ask that they join us for a time. To live and dream along with us.
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