Wisdom Of Her Spirit
How softly moved this woman's resilience,
not even that intense flaming sphere
extinguished her desire for knowledge –
drifting from one station to another,
hungering for that destination,
market towns with their beehive
of buzzing sounds touching all
senses, a cacophony nirvana to some;
but not to a nomad who wanders mountain serenity,
bedding down at twilight under a golden saffron sky,
It's cold, barren, independent, rebellious nature defiant
that only the tolerance of these people shall survive,
then, castaway in cankerous heat and cold of desert,
an orgy of windstorms battle golden sea of sand,
it was as if the devil himself would lure man into this
desolate environment, beautiful and alluring as it is.
Night cloaks; gilding sequins of stars,
snakes skim their way as mottled
lizards scurry searching darkness
for that tasty morsel.
Consumed at every turn –
never floundering, time shifts
as glistening jewels of sunlight lead her on,
where salt and gold are plentiful, a trail of clues to follow.
Across river deep and wide,
treasures unloaded from barges;
many trade here, a place for
buying and selling, then onto another post.
Finally many miles reported she reaches her antiquity,
an arresting sight to behold,
locals give welcome.
Her knowledge astounds me,
with eagerness I observed.
A poem inspired by Alice Morrison's trek
Morocco to Timbuktu, shown on BBC 2.