Heart's Land

Lateisha’s eyes scan the river bank,

heart aching at its water scarcity.

A single tear rolls down her cheek

and she swipes at it frustratedly.

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Dried grass stems exit her pockets,

flecks of green across grey rocks.

Stems gathered during searing drought,

in memory of the many crops lost.

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As the dusk casts its shadows, she sits,

staring at the bare river bank.

Deficient of water, it eats at her heart,

which worries for her mother’s health.

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Lateisha’s body is a stream of water,

gushing an array of mixed emotions.

Like flood gates, her frame does shake

as rage and sadness fills her heart.

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Her small feet scuff yellow dirt,

printing her marks upon the earth.

A land of spirit in which she was born

and trekked the terrain’s pulsing heart.

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Her fingers grasp dried grass blades,

which she entwines into a plait.

Toil of heart, mind and origin,

such beauty in earth’s remnants.

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Tying her plaited grass into a knot,

Lateisha makes a small bangle to wear.

Twisting it around her wrist,

her mind unravels its memory.

-

Across the river she recently trekked,

grasping her mother’s hand tightly.

Sharp stones slashed her bare soles

as she carried the world upon her back.

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A five day, arduous trek unfolded,

gathering food from bush surrounds.

Resting, her hand cupped scarce water,

which quenched their very dry mouths.

-

Remaining drops of water she poured,

atop the bush food her mother cooked.

A very scarce morsel was shared,

between two very hungry mouths.

-

Only last eve her mother fell,

her tired eyes staring vacantly.

Her face pale and body weak,

her body shaking and trembling.

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Digging beneath the river rocks,

Lateisha felt remnant moisture.

Sliding her palm across drops,

she stared at the precious water.

-

Above her the moon did cast,

its white glow upon her frame.

A shimmer rippled across her palm

and she prayed fervently for life.

-

Now sitting alone, Lateisha trembles,

afraid of what the future holds.

The land she loves is hurting inside

and so is her mother’s precious body.

-

Into the air, a strained melody rings,

the fatigued shaking of Christmas bells.

Gaze falling to ground, she witnesses

her mother shaking the bell fervently.

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Each Christmas eve we pray on bells,

to bless us with the spirit of life.

Each day after we tread the earth,

faced with its sheer fortune and plight.

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Arms raised up high into the sky,

Lateisha offers her heart’s land.

Of river, rocks and water flow,

of life lived upon the troubled earth.

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A Note to Readers: May your heart's land sit comfortably with you as you continue to trek the earth this Christmas season, into the new year and the future.