Originally published in Brownstone Magazine
copyright (c) 2005 by Anjoli Roy
The sight comes in waves
A current of light reflected off
A joined mass of uncertain force.
Graves buoy in the Bayou, they say.
Nudged by water-locked soil
Gasping for air when they surface
You return to me as a distant traveler
One of Zora’s cautious ones
A memory once rooted in space.
I stumble upon you
A sight caught in sound
Gushing around you,
Silent in silver and white
Hungry and ravishing the land
Exerting its force
Wrapping its arms
Like a choke blanket
Strangled in tears.
Shavings tossed in the face of those who stayed
The workers came and marked the doors in red
(But we pray for you anyway.)
A city’s worth of memories,
Let loose of their chains to space,
Took flight on the wind.
Married the sight and sound
Of the water I splashed on my face
And watched gather in the washbasin