Imvura: The Rain



(Photo credit: Sara Hillstrom)

Living so close to the sun, a body moves slowly for self-preservation. Lungs expand with effort, making efforts to make less effort. Thoughts persuade the blood that we are cool and calm, we are cool and calm. Slowly is the way. We move with intention. And, we know that we are not alone.



Back straighter than a flagpole,

gait steadier than an anthem;

kilos of kindling top her head,

a jerry can in a hand,

Mama carries a machete in the other.

She carries a baby on her back.

Mama carries the future on her back.

She carries her country, men.


If Mama were to tire (don’t worry, she won’t),

if she needs to take a rest (don’t worry, she doesn’t),

would you carry Mama for a time?