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August 12, 2003

The Mine of Dreams

I watch the miners toil at Mondé So,
That desert bowl a colander of hope.
Harouna's dust-eyed brother hauls a rope;
I hear a questing pickaxe far below.
A many-braided girl in yellow skirt
Supports Harouna's son in dorsal fold,
Sings low and pours some water through some dirt,
with swaying hips and pan and would-be gold.

Here he comes, blinking, up into the light,
His crusty camel snorts derisively,
We greet, we bless, he rinses off the white,
Surveys the other miners pensively.
Harouna's words will echo in my sleep:
"To find the gold you have to travel deep."

Posted by sahelsteve at August 12, 2003 04:01 PM