Sunday, November 7, 2010

Pariaman, no more

For Sumatra

The mosque’s minaret
has succumbed to the earth
as she swallows whole
villages in her muddy mouth.

A great underground
t h u n d e r erupts cascades
of rock and thick mud,
envelops a wedding party

at the foothills of the bride’s
childhood home. Her most
precious union sealed in darkness,
her unborn children, myths once again.

Those that still roam find
hands petrified up from the land
like human plants searching
for sun. The dead are carved

from clay by villagers, culled
today only to be replaced
from whence they came
with a prayer for the sending.

Aleathia Drehmer 2009

Published by Sugar Mule 11/09

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