Saturday, 29 May 2021

The Cicadas' Lament

  

Sally, my sister-in-law, half-sat 

half-lay crumpled on the 

front steps sobbing a prayer, 

the words of which I will never know, 

the sound of which I will never 

forget


Her dress was soiled with blood 

and water, and at four months pregnant, I 

instantly knew the terrible truth of her travail. 

I could only glimpse the horror but 

Sally saw all the dreadful desperate 

destiny


Her sobbing tore the air and dislodged 

the sky and when she saw 

me approaching, her sobs 

turned to wailing. My heart shifted 

on its pinions and I was 

undone


I rang for an ambulance, relieved

I didn't need to explain much 

as the operator heard the commotion. 

It's strange how we are thankful for the 

smallest gifts of grace in times of 

trouble


How do I render assistance without 

crossing a relational line? Will there be 

forever an awkwardness between the two of us? 

The uncomfortableness of sharing such  

personal calamity in such an intimate way 

made the air between us heavy


Bird-song and traffic noise muted, 

light lost its gleam, the sky its gloss, 

nature changing its demeanor, 

grieving too at the loss. 

Sally's low keening now the only sound, 

except for the coarse choir of cicadas 

lamenting in the murrayas.


MDC 20/10/2020




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