For Ones, in Peace.

Thump. Thrump. beat.

His fingers
nimbly pluck
strings
reverberating
with the air
thrumming
with Life.

I slowed down

Took in a breath
drank Vanilla Coke
and listened

Their voices
plucking harmony
fading
in and out
moving
with the guitar strings
as they placed
red potatoes
in aluminium coats
upon a bed of coals

Wintry scents
envelop
and I am one

with a new universe
exploding and developing
a new sense of self
a beautiful belonging
understanding
that places may differ
and faces will change
but essence,
remains.

Thump. Thrump. fweep.

She places fingers
over mine
and tells me
“hold down here
and blow”,
and sweet music flows
from holes
ground into gourds,
blowing me
back into a time

when my ancestors
must’ve sat
around a same fire.

Flames that don’t burn
but warm
gently
generations that flow
by and past
as people leave
and memories
guide
one by one

Sha la la la la.

I let the notes fall
from lips that speak
languages different,
he tells me
to hold my notes
“flat, no up”
and I speak
twisting tongue
and toning down
“sen bei no”, hello.

we do not talk,
we converse,

❤

Thank you, Tre L. Loadholt for inspiration.