Ilze Olckers

Drowning – not waving.

The fear was different and true.
Still, intermittent on the corrugated roof
and you were in hiding.

Then all hell breaks loose again.
Monsoons of misery running between doors
top soil soiling the ocean.

Even though in a manner of speaking you gave it up
marveling at this one moment of peace
and your heart was brave.

A reprieve, a dance
giving birth in trees.
Birds drowned.

Trellidoors, sensors, beams between you and the electric fence
group areas – gated villages.
Even though most of life was ahead of you

coming through the storm
quietly circling buildings making your mark.
Not this, cowardly glancing through windows at 2 am .


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