Like a camel in the seventh century

carrying ‘Persian’ and ‘Indian’ musical instruments to Sui ‘China’

This load

I’ve been carrying

has a melody I can sense

but am unable to play


And the drooping but not dropping

yellow floss

of the weeping Spring willow

is my regret

at not finding the notes


But now I must return

to the sustaining of a song

I can join myself in with

Like the twisted reed border of ‘ntschakot’

ceremonial skirt of high-ranking Bushong women

Spinning densely in chorus

for better or worse.


from breathing for breadth (TSAR: 2005, p. 27)

*photo by Salimah Valiani

One response to “Caravan

  1. Your words are music to my ears..breathless, am I.

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